#we also know hes kind of a bitch so i have no clue whether or not this act of kindness would end up making him

[extravalgant]

a concept ive been working on for the switch up au is how to handle certain character interactions and what i can do with them...

but most of all its about what i can play around with... hehe

which is why ive come up with an outside force taking the crown of command from the monkey king and putting it on the wizard

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Can you do axl rose and slash too (safe words)

A/n: I will never get over Slash's obsession with tits. I also cannot explain how much I love the thought of him just using anyone as a pillow because I know he's prone to falling asleep wherever he can

Please someone request something for Slash, I love him too much rn :'3

Warnings: Smut, angst, use of safe words (There's technically no use of a safe word in Slash's but it's kind of implied? There's a boundary that's definitely crossed), bondage, smoking (Slash attempts to burn reader with his cigarette), oral sex (male receiving), if there's anything you think I missed please let me know otherwise enjoy :3

Axl was an interesting man, for sure. You’d met at a club and after just a few weeks of seeing each other he asked if he could move in. He explained that his band was just getting going and he didn’t have a place other than a storage unit on Gardner that his band used as a house/party room/practice place, knowing that you were much more open to letting him crash with you.

Things were going fine between you two. You’d wake up and make breakfast, not because of any other reason than Axl wasn’t awake until about noon on most days, which you didn’t mind either because it meant you got to see him so peaceful and calm.

Fast forward to now. You’d fallen asleep with Axl beside you. He’d been whining all day about one thing or another, obviously trying to get something but he was too stubborn to say what it was and nothing he did gave you a clue either.

In the middle of the night you woke up to some strange noises and an odd feeling. The room was completely dark because something was covering your eyes, you tried to move it but found that your arms were tied, your legs too.

“Axl?” You called in an attempt to find out what was going on and whether you should start worrying or not.

“What is it?” Axl’s familiar deep voice answered, sounding somewhat distant.

“What are you doing?” You asked, trying to move again to no avail. You felt a weight on the bed, signalling that Axl had gotten on the mattress and was sitting beside you. He ran his hand over your bare stomach, you preferred sleeping in just your underwear and Axl was in no way opposed to that. Now you were rethinking that idea.

“Having some fun, don’t worry about it.” Usually that deep voice of his was nice, it could calm you or bring that familiar warmth to the pit in your stomach. Now it just scared you. You couldn’t see, couldn’t move, you were fully at his mercy.

“I am. Axl, I am worried about it.” You stated, struggling against the restraints again. “Axl, I’m serious.” Axl got on top of you, your legs were already spread thanks to what you assume to be rope around your ankles.

“Shut up and be good for me, will you? That’s what you’re good for.” He hooked your legs over his, from what you could feel he’d already stripped himself down to nothing.

“Axl, we could do something if you’d just get me out of this.” You told him. The ginger lined himself up with you and pushed in despite your complaints. The feeling reminded you of many times before, this isn’t the first time Axl’s ever woken you up for sex but it was the most worrying time. Usually it would just be him fucking your thighs, or he’d just outright wake you up and tell you he was horny. Never had he even mentioned that this was something he’d be into. It certainly wasn’t something you were into, not right now at the very least.

“Fuck, always so tight for me.” The ginger groaned as he rocked his hips into you. “My perfect little slut.” He held your face in his hand, squishing your cheeks together and opening your mouth. You weren’t sure what he was doing until you heard a ‘patoo’, then you felt this cold liquid on your tongue. He spat in your mouth.

You violently thrashed against him and the restraints. “Get me the fuck out of this you fucking bitch!” You screamed. Axl quickly took the cloth covering your eyes off and tossed it away.

“Jesus Christ, better now?” He groaned. You glared up at him as you tried to think of anything that could get him to stop.

“Pumpkin!” You yelled. Something flicked in him, you could see it in his eyes even in the dark room. He wasn’t looking at you with lust or hatred, that line you were never really sure if he crossed whenever things got hot between you two. There was a disappointment in his eyes. Not in you but himself.

Axl pulled out and got the ropes taken off of you. He pulled on a pair of pants and found you one of his shirts for you to put on before he left the room.

You threw the shirt on and went out to find him.

Axl was on the couch, rocking himself slightly. His head was down and he was staring at the floor, refusing to make eye contact with you.

You went over to him and sat beside him on the couch. You leaned your head on his shoulder and put a hand on his back, gently rubbing it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He blurted, still not looking at you.

“Didn’t mean to do what?” You asked in a soft voice.

“I-I don’t even know...” He said, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. You reached for them and held them in your own. “I just... I thought it would be fun.” You nodded in understanding.

“It wasn’t.” He rolled his eyes and nodded.

“Yeah, I got that.” Finally he looked up at you. For a moment he just looked at you, then he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, kissing your forehead and cheek and nose, pretty much anywhere he could reach in this hold. “I’m sorry I made you say that.”

“You could’ve just said something earlier.” You mumbled, looking at his face and just taking in his features.

“I know.” He let out a heavy sigh. “So,” he started, “wanna give me a blow job?” He asked with a smile. You swatted the back of his head and stood up, walking back to the room. Axl followed and wrapped his arms around you.

Your boyfriend was touring and after months of dating but not going on the road with him you finally got the chance to actually come with him.

The separation was not the ideal circumstance for either of you and you called all the time, every day and night you’d be getting calls from him asking how you’ve been. At night the calls usually took a turn to more sexual areas, you were alone and needy and so was he.

The crew going with Guns was the real issue, they wanted to save as much money as possible, even if it wasn’t necessary. That meant that you wouldn’t be getting a free pass on the plane with the band. Slash had offered to pay for your ticket but you refused because you didn’t know when you’d be able to pay him back. But all of that was behind you now and you were finally on the road with the band.

It was right before one of their headlining shows and Slash was backstage with you in his dressing room. You were on the couch and he asked if you’d give him a blow job before he went on. You didn’t want to at first because you didn’t think you’d have time but Slash promised you would, and so you did.

You were on your knees sucking him off, you could tell he was enjoying it by the faces he was making. You knew if you really wanted to you could make him a whining little mess but you were focused on speed right now.

While you were busy bobbing your head on his length he got a cigarette out and lit it. Nothing out of the ordinary, Slash was a known chainsmoker. You watched his euphoric expression and the way his head fell back as smoke drifted past his lips and into the air.

Then he looked back down at you with this expression that you just couldn’t place. He had this smirk as he looked down at you. “You’re so pretty, you know that?” He asked, not expecting an answer while your mouth was full of him. You caught his gaze wandering to the cigarette between his fingers. “Think I could make you hotter?” You raised a brow at him.

“What?” You asked as you pulled back. The exact moment you did so Slash tapped off the end of his cigarette where you would’ve been had you not moved. You stared up at him wide eyed with fear and anger.

He seemed to have realised his mistake as soon as he made it because he stared back at you with those same wide eyes, except his were of worry. You didn’t say anything else, you just got up and left the room.

You stayed to watch the show, the band still put on a great performance and you didn’t want to miss it, but you didn’t stick around afterward like you normally would. Instead you took a taxi back to the hotel you were staying at.

Slash came home later, much later. You had fallen asleep already by the time he got back. He saw you crashed on the bed with the TV on. You were laying over the covers and still had your clothes on so he figured you’d passed out while watching a movie or something.

He went to his suitcase and found a shirt to get you into. He undressed you and tried his best to keep you asleep but you fell asleep while he was struggling with your pants. “What are you doing?” You mumbled, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Slash froze. He slowly looked up at you.

“I was trying to get you into something comfier.” He explained his usual soft yet raspy voice.

“Oh...” You mumbled and just let him continue. He eventually got your pants and shirt off, he took your bra off per your request because it was not comfortable to sleep in. He offered to let you wear a pair of his shorts as well instead of the pretty lace you had on. Of course you accepted the offer and Slash helped you get his clothes on. They didn’t fit you but for sleep they were perfect.

You got under the covers while Slash turned the lights off, though he kept the TV on for background noise. He got under the covers with you and rested his head on your chest. “I won’t do that again.” He mumbled. You were barely conscious yourself at this point so you just nodded with a hum. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know.” You mumbled back. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He gave a small kiss to your collarbone.

“If you ever do anything like that again you’re sleeping with Axl.” You threatened. Slash grumbled and after a small pause he looked up at you.

“You wouldn’t really, would you?” You could tell there was some genuine concern.

“Do you really want to find out?” Slash stared at you for a moment longer before going back to nuzzling your tits.

[arqueete]

Alright! I saw Spring Awakening last night. I love a take that's fresh and interesting and this one was really fantastic. This production is based on the version Deaf West created, where some of the characters are deaf or hard-of-hearing and ASL or captions are incorporated throughout. (I got to see that one at the Wallis and on Broadway, but I never followed the revival to nearly the same degree as the original, so forgive me if I misremember bits of it.)

Skylight is a professional theater in Milwaukee and this show was supposed to be in their very first season with their new artistic director (but got postponed because that season was... 2020-2021) and I should probably write them some actual, formal review somewhere to show my support for doing something this inspired. But this one is for us nerds.

This is just act one because I literally have more thoughts than can fit in a Tumblr post. Some general thoughts to start off:

Have there been any other stagings of the Deaf West version of Spring Awakening since the Broadway revival closed? There need to be more. That's one of my main takeaways of this experience. This is a version of the show that can and should be iterated on.

Wendla, Moritz, and Frau Bergmann/Frau Gabor are portrayed by deaf actors who have a separate "voice of" actor who always speaks and sings on their behalf (they put these performers in period clothes.) The adult men, Martha, and Ernst, are played by actors who are hard of hearing (so say their bios) and did all their own singing, speaking, and signing (though the adult men rarely actually signs.)

I read an article about this production that talked about trying to scale back how often hearing actors are speaking and signing at the same time, and looking carefully at how speaking and signing are used in-universe. I can't speak to whether they succeeded in their goal of improving the experience for deaf and hard-of-hearing audience members, but simply from a storytelling standpoint, I thought this was one of the smartest and most effective changes they made from the original Deaf West version. Characters are shown having different levels of proficiency and comfort with sign language and it adds depth.

Mama Who Bore Me / Wendla's bedroom / reprise

Wendla's mother is also deaf and has her own "Voice of" actress present in these scenes, which removes some of the interesting dynamics that were there when her mother was hearing, but brings in something new in the connection between these generations.

Classroom scene / All That's Known / Bitch of Living

The teacher's back was turned a lot and we get the idea that Melchior is constantly translating what the teacher is saying to the entire class so that they can keep up, not just for Moritz but for everyone. (Update on a second viewing: really, he's translating for Ernst, as Moritz is asleep and the rest of the boys are hearing in this production.)

When Melchior gets hit by the teacher, the blow is represented by all of the characters on stage clapping in unison. This is used throughout the show when people are getting hit, and I felt like it tied these moments together in a meaningful way.

In Bitch of Living, we start to establish that the hearing characters don't necessarily sign their own solos. Among the boys, Melchior (played by a hearing actor who is a professional interpreter) and especially Ernst (played by a hard-of-hearing actor) tend to sign for them. There is so much of this sort of thing (actors interpreting for each other in both directions) throughout the show that it just becomes a thing you accept about the concept. I have no clue if this is confusing for people who don't know the show as well as I do.

After class, I loved this moment where Georg is saying and signing his line about Fraulein Grossenbustenhalter and when he does her sign name (you know, the boobs) he kind of glances at his hands with this look on his face like... FML.

Hanschen is shown trying his best to sign to Ernst. He struggles to spell Achilles and Patroclus, and Ernst demonstrates for him.

When Melchior and Moritz are alone at the end of this scene, they only sign together and the actor who plays Hanschen speaks on Melchior's behalf just as the Voice of Moritz speaks on Moritz's behalf. The show generally does this whenever Melchior is alone with Moritz or Wendla. As in this production many of the hearing characters don't sign very much at all and we see that signing is forbidden in school, I like how this shows Melchior rebelling in a practical and kind-hearted way.

The teachers in this production never sign, they are only captioned with projections on the wall behind them.

My Junk

When Hanschen speaks to his postcard, the lines are interpreted by Martha's actress acting seductive in a nightgown. When Hanschen responds to his father, the lines are interpreted by Otto's actor.

The production, in general, doesn't really go big for comedic moments except for Fraulein Grossenbustenhalter who I've never seen played so over-the-top (leaning forward over the back of the piano with her cleavage on full display) and given equal attention in the scene. The audience ate it up.

Melchior's study / Touch Me

There's a moment where Melchior goes to hand his mom his copy of Faust and Moritz snatches it right out of his hand like what is wrong with you.

There's a lot I loved about this production but one of its weaker points is probably the choreography and set design, which are just... fine. Adequate. Not a lot of memorable imagery for me.

Word of Your Body

Melchior and Wendla are sitting on a table which feels weird considering they're in a forest under a tree? Doesn't really translate for me.

The Dark I Know Well

Thea (played by a hearing actress in this version) doesn't sign, which I like to imagine is an intentional choice (though it very well may just be a practical one with the casting) saying something about Thea and her relationship to the authority figures in the show. Anna signs, and that actor is often seen interpreting for other characters, and I wonder if that was a deliberate choice in the other direction--Anna is obviously a more open-minded character.

Ilse doesn't do a lot of signing either, though I'm not sure how I relate that to the character.

Beating scene

It went over well here, the audience did not think it was funny. Again, Melchior and Wendla are alone here, so they are only signing, except when Wendla says she's never felt... what? She speaks aloud: "Anything." Melchior's "I'll teach you to say please" seemed not very serious--he's still just, reluctantly, playing along at this point. When he gets to the end of the scene, even though he has only been signing up until now, he shouts the last line instead.

And Then There Were None

There was something in Deaf West's production where the voice of Moritz hands Moritz the gun, wasn't there? Here this is done the same as in the original, he just has the gun in his jacket. In general, I think there were fewer moments in this production where the voices interacted with their counterparts in some striking, symbolic way like that. I didn't find myself missing it all that much, there's already plenty of layers to this concept as it is.

The Mirror-Blue Night / Hayloft / I Believe

So, you know, you can't make the hayloft consensual because the fact that Melchior knows the risks and Wendla does not is obviously key to the entire plot and also the problem with them having sex. (As you get older, do you find that Melchior's dad sounds more and more reasonable in act two...?) With that said, I thought this one was superbly directed. Melchior's back-and-forth with Wendla here felt like he genuinely wanted to hear her explain what she was feeling and have a conversation. Wendla seemed comfortable with Melchior. He undoes her dress, she pulls down his suspenders, he takes off his shirt (leaving an undershirt beneath), and she undoes her slip. There was a warning for nudity but I didn't see anything, really--they weren't making a show of it.

(Updated: Here's my thoughts on act two)

[esther-dot]

At one point I was thinking that maybe Jonsa is romanticised more in show than it would be in books. D&d had romanticised many relationships in show so I thought maybe jonsa will also be romanticised one. But after looking so many visual parallels with almost all couples in GOT made me think why are they super focussed in this ship. Why did other ships get some kind of closure but not Jonsa? In books too Jonsa clues are there and it seems most positive. So why the makers backed out?🤔

There are so many possibilities, anon!

Jonsa wasn’t ever a thing (books or show), and we’ve made connections no one intended to exist

Show Jonsa was something that happened as a result of Kit and Sophie’s unexpected chemistry and the writers played with it just because it was good tv without ever planning to actually go there

Show Jonsa was something they came up with, toyed with, thought about making explicit, but then abandoned

Book Jonsa is a thing and D&D wanted to hint at it but were never going there themselves

Book Jonsa is a thing and D&D didn’t want to do it but Kit and Sophie had such great chemistry we made show Jonsa a thing despite their distaste for it

I’m probably missing some variation, but you get the idea. Personally....

I have a hard time believing that the same showrunners who tried to shoehorn in a last minute reason for Dany burning KL (even though they knew that was happening for seasons and she talked about her willingness to burn cities to the ground from like s3 on) were thoughtful enough to create a meaningful dynamic between Jon and Sansa (while they simultaneously kept hinting at Sansa being a traitorous bitch) that spanned three seasons. 

Even if I can accept that as a happy accident, I don’t believe for a minute that D&D came up with the idea of Jon and Sansa reuniting first of all the Starks or working to protect the North/their family together. They whitewashed villains, but they cast a lot of doubt on whether or not Sansa was loyal to her family, and they stripped her of her romanticism, and they didn’t give her a love interest although all the other mains had one, so, their habit of painting with a gentler brush never extended to poor Sansa.

What could have happened is that they looked at what Martin told them and thought they’d mix and match, shuffle the order of things to make it work better for their audience. As in, Cersei and Dany, the only women in power were dying in the end, so they thought making Sansa queen after that would forestall accusations of sexism. I think Sansa will be queen in the books too, but it’s possible that Jon is chosen KitN, his identity becomes known, and he marries Sansa to unify the North when it might all fall apart otherwise. She could be queen earlier in the story, but obviously, that ticks different boxes than her being chosen by her people to lead. If that were how the books were to play out, then I could imagine D&D thought it felt more empowering to do away with the Jonsa marriage and allow Sansa’s rise to power to be about her alone and it might make their lives easier if it happened in the same episode in which Dany was killed.

Or, another option is that book Jonsa is a chaste love. Emotionally rewarding and fulfilling for the characters, meaningful as they choose each other over and over, but ultimately, can’t be together. If it’s something that romantic but not absolutely plot necessary, D&D could have decided to have their cake and eat it too. Still use the Jonsa relationship as an important part of the arcs emotionally, but never acknowledge the nature of their feelings, and instead do Jxnerys which was far more popular with the fans.

I really don’t know what to make of what D&D did, especially because it doesn’t feel like they dropped it before s8 in which they had Sansa behave in such a noticeably jealous way people who hated Jonsa before started to wonder after 8x04 if it was real. My tendency is to think that when they opted to hide Dark Dany, the nature of Jon and Sansa’s bond (whether it was ever meant to be acted on or not) couldn’t be revealed until after the burning of KL, but then they realized how badly this all was going to come across and scratched it.

[bidisaster-peanut-romano]

Where did everyone get the info that Bully originally had a storyline with Johnny and Mandy?

why hello anon!!! i hope you know that you have unleashed a beast bc that's something i'm soooo passionate about

so basically!! premise: we're mainly talking audio files; i will mainly put the transcript since tumblr won't allow more than 10, but if you want to listen to them by themselves you can either look them up on yt or download them from here! (another premise: some audios are numbered by chapter, but as you might know bully was initially meant to be 6 chapters + endless summer instead of 5 + 1, the sixth chapter beginning with jimmy being expelled)

first thing first, we do know that mandy a.has a thing for johnny (she mentions him 4 times in her audios:

Mandy_CHATTER_v6: mmmh… johnny vincent is kinda cute. why is he with that tramp lola?

Mandy_CONVG_v3: can you believe lola? i bet she's been with at least half the boys of the school just to make johnny jealous.

Mandy_CONVG3_v1: lola's got johnny all wound up the poor guy. he should forget about that tramp and try out for the football team!

Mandy_CONVQP_v1: have you ever wondered what it'd be like to make out with johnny vincent?

and that b.she has a certain rivalry with lola, which includes but is not limited to johnny's attention. there's also this quite interesting conversation bw mandy and lola, that was supposed to play during complete mayhem but got deleted just like all the content we'll discuss from here on:

Lola_6-02_023_v1: shut up, you jealous bitch!

Lola_6-02_023_v2: so what? he didn't have your name on him, did he?

Mandy_6-02_024_v1: who do you think you are?

Mandy_6-02_024_v2: i can't believe you used to be my friend!

(him, imo, v probably johnny)

which isn't a lot; after all, johnny doesn't mention mandy even once in his audios, expressing far more of an obsessions towards lola

now; also during complete mayhem, though, there was supposed to be this v interesting conversation between johnny and jimmy:

Johnny_6-02_036A_v1: jimmy, y-you saw us! please don't tell lola!

Jimmy_6-02_036c_v1: on one condition: you get your crew to stop fighting!

Johnny_6-02_036C_v1: anythiing you say, jimmy, just don't tell!

to me this sounds a lot like, gasp!, johnny was caught cheating on her. or just being with someone else - i want to remind you that lola claims, in finding johnny vincent, that they broke up; it's questionable whether they got back together once more or if it was for good. even if they were, after all, johnny would have all the reasons not to let lola know he's seeing mandy. if it was mandy this would have a lot more sense

but there's something i think that. really kind of puts the last nail in, being an ambience conversation audio that you could hear during the sixth chapter from none other than vance medici himself:

Vance_CONVG6_v1: someone saw johnny vincent by the football field, i swear!

on the contrary, peanut's chapter six ambience conversation audio tells us that he has no clue where johnny might be or what he might be doing (and then again, we know it's not about finding johnny vincent because that would've been in chapter five):

Peanut_CONVG6_v1: where's johnny? has anybody seen johnny?

so, is this certain? not 100%, but sure there are a lot of pieces coming together in this puzzle imo.

i think the storyline was scrapped because it was far too complex and far too late in the game to be fleshed out nicely. and, i mean, the choice itself is right. but i think the situation would've been a nice occasion for character developments of all johnny, lola and mandy, plus an occasion to see them all interact, since their pop culture and analysis from a "media archetypes" perspective so to say is a thing that interests me a great deal

[the-furies]

crashes in here. dusts myself off. anyway.

🍄 Do you headcanon any characters as plural? Who and why?

im pretty sure ik the answer. i want details anyway. [grabby hands]

🌾 Do you have an inner world? What's it like?

im always so interested what other peoples plural experience. our headspace is basically its own universe. whats your guyses if you have one???

🍄 u fucking already know what's up our main hc is that Harry is plural and it's practically canon actually Let's be real. WITH THAT BEING SAID LET ME GET INTO. SOEM DETAILS . [aka i am infodumping. i am infoodumpingna Lots.]

b4 i start off the lines blur on whether shit is hc or shit i/the others remember from Our Canon LMFAO so anyways:

Mixed origins. *Points at Shivers* that bitch just showed up one day! Also Limbic + ARC were born with him. So if we wanna add labels then those would be primarily traumagenic w a couple protogenic sysmates & at Least one walk-in. oh also his tie is a headmate too ofc. Hallucination at first but also his ass got introjected later.

We r actually working on a timeline of who formed when and everything is v much up in the air fr a lot of us but Anyways aside from ARC & Limbic, Composure & Half Light formed first. That much we r Certain abt. this also counts as a hradcanon btw bc we r the kind of bitch that shoehorns our canon into shit . "this is my headcanon on things haha" is how we get our shit across 2 non-systems HWJAJSJDFJFJDJSJ

tho besides those 2 a quick rundown of everyone else we know of so farrrr uhhh. From oldest to most recent: Inland & Empathy in his childhood, Encyclo, Volition, & Rhetoric in his teens, Pain Threshold coulda formed anywhere in between childhood and teens tbh we are Not Sure. And then we're Certain Physical Instrument formed when he got a job as a gym teacher. Or while he was in highschool??? one of those. Idk. Same w Endurance. And then when he was in his like 20s-30s I formed and everything went downnnnhilllll HWHSJDJDJFFJ. Once he joined the RCM Esprit formed & then ????????? and after The Incident, Shivers showed up. Anyone not listed here we have zero clue on when exactly they formed 👍

HOWEVER ASIDE FROM HARRY WE ALSO HC EVERYONE IN DE AS PLURAL IN SOME WAU IM SURE I BROUGHT THIS UP WHEN WE ANSWERED THIS SAME QUESTION LAST IDR. but yeah anyways. Everyone's Skillsets would manifest differently [Kim's fr example manifest as him writing in his journal] & everyone has different Skills. except fr maybe a couple? Like multiple people would have Empathy Skills probs but some like Shivers would be specific to Harry.,,, Kinda. I mean. Ok so how we see Shivers specifically using plural community language is that She's a walk-in and a factive (?) of the entire city. But also supra-natural shit is involved there too It's A Lot. ANYWAYS WHAT IM SAYING IS MULTIPLE PEOPLE CAN DEFINITELY FEEL THE CITY SPEAK TO THEM IT'S JUST SHIVERS AS WE KNOW HER IN-GAME IS SPECIFIC TO HARRY, FJJSJSDJDJFJ BUT YEAH NO EVERYONE HAS DIFFERENT SKILLSETS & THEY MANIFEST DIFFERENTLY FOR EVERYONE TOO one day when we have more spoons 4 thinking. we will come bacj 2 this. HFJDJDJFJF

🌾 WE DO!! It changes often though! rn since it's like,,, JUST us Skills in the fronting roster [MOMENTARILY!!! ROsie and Allan aren't dormant they're just majorly afk!! fhsjdjfjf] the main headspace view is HARRY'S headspace and *THAT* is just. longgggg winding black voidy rooms that have little to no start and end. We're forming shit though! And stuff is sticking!

We have a main area that's just a dining table & one of the rooms we've found is like. a buncha sleeping bags & a campfire? We call that room Composure's room cuz it's where it usually is.

Uhhh mine, Encyclo's, and Volition's room is similar to the master bedroom in the house our core grew up in. Which sidenote is fucky as hell cuz that's ALSO the room where our nightmares take place in! Thanks brain what the fuck! HFHDJDJDJFFJ

And then Reaction Speed kinda has xir own room too it manifests as the inside of a tent? It's tiny. but cozy? Idont think anyone else has their own rooms in Harry's headspace [and neither does Harry btw. His ass can barely manifest here unless someone yoinks him in here or it happens by accident jadjfjfj]

OUTSIDE OF THAT THOUGH WE HAVE A TONNNNN OF LAYERS & ALL FHJSJF the main layer is currently an open field w some trees & flowers on a hill. A lil ways in front of the tree is The Cave™ that holds The Fog™ [partial mix of The Pale?? but also The Fog is our own brain-made TMA-adjacent Entity. It's the embodiment of our brainfog & all. We have 2 Fog avatars one is Trant and the other FUCKING DIED I THINK BC THE FOG GOT HIS ASS???!! ithink he's still in the cave actually? Idk he existed for less than a week before disappearing!!!! Rip Mr Whitely you wil be missed maybe. Idk. cuz ur ass was a serial killer or smth in ur source so like, [lh]]

UHHHH A BIT FARTHER from the Cave is a lil cabin that belongs to Harry & Kim. And a small walk down the hill the cabin is on is The Manor™ and the Septic Household™. Both groups that those houses belong to are currently dormant rn but The Manor is still Very Much Alive Apparently so we uh. Try to. Upkeep her. So she doesn't try. to kill us <3. [I Jest i don't think she can do anything. Idk. But Dark said to not leave her alone Lest Shit Happens and i DON'T know if they were fucking with us. dhajsjfjfjfjf]

Anddddddd. Above our main layer we have,,,, uhhh. The Outskirts? Which is the layer one of our overseers, Mischief, lives in. It's like.,,, a buncha pink & purple clouds u can walk on it's pretty. above that is The Outer Nothing which is where Infīnītus & our other Hierarchy members live. The Outer Nothing is uhhh. Nothingness? Space? Void? something like that?? Idk nobody can visit it unless they're apsrt of the Hierarchy and those fucks don't front unless it's ab emergency and nooobodyyyyyy in the roster rn is anywhere NEARRRR being eligible to Join The Hierarchy I think???? so. ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯! JFJSJXKCKCKDJD

we have other layers I think but they're inaccessible rn. We can access The Outskirts if need be via The Cave and from The Outskirts we can TECHNICALLY GET TO THE OUTER NOTHING but the entrance to it is blocked off a la invisible wall </3

-Electrochemistry

[khaleesiofalicante]

Hola Dani 👋🏼💚 ¿que tal te va en tu nuevo empleo?

What the Fuck is Wrong with French People?

THE BEGINNING

Ok Alec my beloved twin you need to chill because this is NOT the way!!

Raphael is a King!!!

Raphael nods and looks at Alec. “I’m watching you.”

He wanted Magnus to stop taking shit from people and tell them to fuck off.

Fuck Camille!!! Why are you still talking to her??? Have you learned nothing??? She will only make it worse!!

He slaps her across the face.

😱😱😱 Alexander! And now is worse!!

So, he drives and drives until he gets that familiar sense of calmness inside his chest.

This is giving me bad vibes, car crash vibes 🥲

“Alec Lightwood?” the cop asks. Alec nods. “We need you to come to the station with us.”

I new something bad was going to happen!!

Ok fine I guess Robert is out of the fuck you club 😒

“People will never stop hurting you, Alec. So, you need to decide whether you want to add to that pain or move on from it,” his father tells him and starts the engine.

I needed this... thank you Dani 💚

“If you are texting him ‘baby, take me back’ I’m going to break your phone.”

Jace!!!! I am love him!!!

“People who leave…They don’t do it because they don’t love you,” Jace says quietly. “Sometimes people need space. Sometimes love makes it hard to heal. So, you need to be away and just be with yourself.”

I'm glad Jace is there for Alec!! My twin is breaking my heart 😭

THE MIDDLE

OMG!!! He is going to France!!! They are going to get David right?? Right??? ALSLSLQLQ!!!!

“Are we poor?” Max asks.

My precious chaotic child your father is about to bring you back something priceless 🥰😍🥰😍🥰

“You better not come home with a baby,” Magnus points out.

This one will stay will Jace and Clary for a few years before joining the Lightwood-Banes don’t worry 🤣🤣

Rafe mi bebé precioso... Rafe es demasiado dulce y tierno, lo amooo!!!

JACE WAS SHOT???? 😱

Alec shrugs. “I don’t know. I know you don’t like it. I know the girls don’t. but I feel like there is someone out there who will love this house. It feels wrong to give up on it.”

Ooooh keep it!! Keep it for David... I mean, he is a prince!! And if he goes there he can live out his RWRB fantasies with Max 🥰😍🥰😍

But there is also so much pain and sacrifice and struggles people can’t see.

As someone who's seen it, I wish I hadn't 😭😭😭😭

THOMAS!!!!

AND ALISTAIR!!!

Stop asking questions and go get my petit prince charmant!!!

Fuck Albert 🤬

“You don’t speak French?” Alec asks.

“Only a little,” Thomas replies.

Bitch!! He is just pretending, get a clue Alec... I see you Thomas 😉

“No, they didn’t,” Alastair replies. “Believe it or not, this kind of complicity is not uncommon.”

Fuck them all... our beloved staff would never 😒

He takes out a cigarette and lights it up.

Then he hears screaming.

Your honor, I request we remove mister Lightwood's right to be a sexy smoker, I am a hoe but I am a David stan first 😌

“It’s pretty.”

Alec blinks.

Did he just talk??

Mavid!!!! 😍🥰

Thomas and Alastair seem to be bickering.

Please find a room and resolve your issues 😈

Oh Alec 🤦🏻‍♀️ really?? You can't see what's going on??

But David getting Thomastair together is top tier shit!!!

"You were right," Jace tells him that night. "This place is yet to be lived."

Yeah... by Mavid 😍

Max frowns at the boy, looking up and down. “This is not chocolate milk.”

Wait till you get a taste!!

Then he raises the boy’s hand to his mouth and kisses the inside of his wrist. “My bapak says kisses heal boo-boos faster.”

THE END

“So did everyone in the mansion to lie me?” Alec asks. “Or was it just the people I trusted the most?”

Come on brother!! You weren't even a little suspicious 😒

Bless Leslie!!!! That woman is a Saint 🙌🏼🙌🏼

“I don’t think so,” Izzy sighs. “He said he is going to see a friend.”

Ok we need an intervention ASAP!!!

Also... Alec needs to talk to someone about the Minyun situation, my twin is too sad 🥲

“Actually,” Alec corrects. “I came here to see you.”

I hope this conversation ends wells I don't need to cry again

You can only be so much for other people before you forget who you are to yourself.

Exactly, go to therapy, find yourself and then get your husband back!!!

Alec stop snooping!!!

“What? No!” Alec puts down the notebook. “I was, uh, just looking. I got bored.”

And stop lying 🤣

But he doesn’t smoke in front of the boy. He never has.

Good, you should stop completely because now I can only think about my poor prince in pain 😭😭

Alec chuckles. “David. I don’t think there is anyone out there who hates you.”

Is impossible to hate you sweetie!!!

Alec smiles. “You go therapy, son?”

He called him son!!!! And also yeah he goes to therapy!!! You should try it sometimes!!

This is such a beautiful moment!!! I didn't know how much I needed this conversation!!!

David takes it and clutches it to his chest. 

I'm so happy...!!! Is this really TLND?? 🥰

His mouth drops. “You’re the one who has been baking this whole fucking time?”

Seriously... how is he running an entire state???

Then he drives.

I don't like all this driving 🙃 please don't crash!!!

Thank youuuu Dani 💚💚💚💚💚 I didn't cry with this one I'm in shock... I'm actually happy!!!

THE "CONGRATULATIONS YOU PLAYED YOURSELF" FUCKING ENDED ME OMG.

Here is a mavid song rec for you bebe: London Boy by Taylor Swift.

[cas-kingdom]

Dad

A/N: Thank you to my anons for helping me come up with some perfectly Geralt-like explanations of parenthood. <3

Despite the summary, Geralt doesn't outright call Akela his daughter in a couple of these, but the point of the story is to show how he can call her that without actually saying it, if that makes sense. Still fluffy and (dangerously) sweet! Also a nice little Yennefer-Geralt scene here.

While writing number 4, I listened to 'Scared' by Jeremy Zucker.

Title: Dad

Summary: Three times Geralt called you his daughter, and the one time you called him ‘Dad’.

Words: 4607

1)

“I knocked it off the cart.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why would I try to steal something I have money to pay for?”

The old man’s face turned sourer, if that was at all possible. “Oh, you have money?” He expectantly stretched his hand out, palm up as his fingers twitched. “Pay me, then!”

You rolled your eyes. “But I’m not buying them!”

“You tried to steal them!”

“I did not!”

“I saw you!”

“What you saw,” you spat out, leaning forward, face the picture of anger, “was me bumping against your cart and knocking a couple apples off—which I apologised for.”

A noise somewhere between frustration and rage spewed from the man’s mouth and he shot his arm forward like a snake striking to attack, grasping the front of your tunic and tugging you forward. “Listen here, girl—”

You clenched your fists and readied to bite back, but before you even had a chance, the man’s hands were ripped from you, and he was shoved away.

“Get your hands off her,” a stony voice ground out, voice brooking no argument. Geralt stood tall and menacing in front of the hunched old man, head tilted slightly to the side as he glared at him. He knew you were often capable of looking after yourself, proven clearly when you stepped beside him and a look of smugness appeared on your face, but he also knew that that would likely never change how much the anger flourished inside him when he saw someone lay their hands on his child in a way such as this.

The old man pointed a shaky finger at Geralt. “You stay out of this, Sir!”

You scoffed, and Geralt spared a glance down at you, briefly raising a brow. “What, exactly, am I supposed to be staying out of?”

“The little bitch tried to steal my produce!”

“I didn’t!”

“The little bitch,” Geralt said, holding out an arm to stop you from lunging, “is my daughter. And if you ever speak in that manner to her again, you won’t be able to speak another word.”

The man looked ready to respond with vigour, but at the last moment his eyes averted to the sword and the daggers at Geralt’s waist, and the cogs in his brain began to turn as his vision wandered up to the white hair and the amber eyes. He shut his mouth and stepped back, resigned.

“Forgive me,” he said. He appeared as though he was ready to run before he grabbed one of the apples you had knocked off his cart and pressed it into your hands, a forced and nervy smile showing on his lips. “Here, take this!”

Your eyes lit up and you smiled victoriously, taking a bite from it and turning to walk off as you called back a quick, “Thank you!”

Geralt sighed deeply and hummed, giving the man a final glare before following after you. “He was right. You are a little bitch,” he remarked.

You grinned and tossed the apple in the air, the sunlight glinting on the green fruit as though in triumph. You handed it to him and watched as he relented with a roll of his eyes and took a bite. “Waste not, want not!”

2)

“What’s it like?”

Geralt lifted his head to look at Yennefer. She was lying on her side opposite the fire, her head resting in her hand, and she seemed contemplative. Curious, in a way, which was odd for her, though what could he really say about that? It wasn’t as though he’d known her long.

“I’m sorry?” he asked.

Yennefer jerked her head in the direction he’d been staring in for the majority of the past ten minutes, where you were fast asleep, curled under blankets, head beside Jaskier’s, who was wandering in the land of dreams himself.

He looked at you a moment longer before turning back to the mage. A hint of his own confusion danced in his eyes, but she spoke before he could open his mouth to question what it was that she meant.

“Parenthood,” she clarified, her voice softening. “What’s it like?”

Geralt rose an eyebrow, briefly floundering for words at the, quite frankly, surprising question. For a woman who was all invulnerability and strength, it was something he hadn’t expected to come from her. Not to mention he didn’t often think about what she’d asked.

He glanced away and shook his head. “More trouble than it’s worth,” he told her with a short breath of a laugh.

The corners of Yennefer’s lips drew upwards. She fidgeted with a stone on the forest floor. “I’m serious.”

His other eyebrow shot up. “So am I,” he assured her. “She may seem sweet, but underneath it all is the monster I’m most afraid to go up against.” He offered her a rare smile, which she returned, and for the first time in a while both mage and witcher felt peaceful. It was blissfully quiet—the only sound being Jaskier’s snores and incoherent mumbles—and it was dark, giving the two the serenity they needed after the trials of the previous days.

“It’s… hard,” he said seriously, despite the fact he was admitting that he, the infamous Geralt of Rivia, found something difficult. “You learn new things every day.”

“What kind of things?”

“Everything. About yourself, about her, about the world in general… you make decisions you probably would never have thought about before. You have responsibilities you wouldn’t have believed would ever be associated with you.” He let his eyes wander over to your sleeping form. “You don’t know what the hell you’re doing most of the time. You can feel so… so lost at it, right until you start to realise the only thing that’s keeping you grounded is the same thing that gave you the title of father. It…” He paused, leaning forward to poke a stick into the dying fire. “It gives you something to live for, and at the time I found Y/N, that was what I needed most.”

Yennefer’s lips curled into a smile as she slowly sat up, tucking her legs underneath her. “It sounds tiring,” she said, glancing down for a moment, and Geralt nodded.

“It is. But the rewards outweigh the difficulties. It’s something you’d give up everything to keep.” He looked across at her, noticing her loosened shoulders, and realised for the first time that he took his title of father for granted. Yennefer’s mutations had made her sterile, and though he was the same, he’d still somehow found a way to get past that, even though he’d never once pondered on the possibilities of it before he’d found you. Yennefer hadn’t been so lucky, and as he looked at her, he found that that reflected perfectly in the eyes he now viewed as… sad.

“You’ll feel that someday,” he said without thinking, and when she glanced up, he nodded in your direction. “When you have your own.”

Yennefer gazed at him, violet eyes piercing the amber of his. They stared at each other for a moment, no words passing their lips but every meaningful word being said nonetheless, until Jaskier snorted in his sleep and the both of them ripped their eyes away, returning to their stone and their stick.

“Thank you, Witcher,” Yennefer spoke up a moment later, and Geralt nodded once.

“You’re welcome, Mage.”

3)

Geralt turned his head down to look at you. You were standing beside him, absently tugging on the neckline of the dress you’d bought from a market that very morning. You were clearly irritated, sighing in annoyance and muttering under your breath every so often.

When you noticed him looking, you shook your head, face every bit unhappy. “I don’t want to be here,” you ground out.

He rose an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

“Why are we here again?”

“Lord Lyon invited us.”

“And how do you—” You scratched at the back of your neck, the foreign material rubbing it raw—“know Lord Lyon?”

Geralt glanced down again and frowned, slapping your hands away from your red neck. “I saved his sister from a werewolf,” he said, instinctively tucking a few strands of hair that hadn’t made it into your plait behind your ear, “and he insisted my attendance at his feast tonight.”

You rose an eyebrow at that, finally relenting in your fiddling and letting your arms hang loosely. “Your attendance,” you picked out. “I could have stayed at the inn.” He ignored that, as you expected, and you sighed, shoulders slacking. “You never usually care for extra repayment,” you said. And it was true. He didn’t. He preferred to do his duty as a witcher and not stick around to see the aftermath of his hunt, except to accept his money. He didn’t care for physical shows of thanks. It was better that way, for you and for him. But he’d, for once, genuinely been concerned for the lord’s sister, so he’d accepted the invitation with the intention of only staying long enough to gain information on her wellbeing before leaving.

Geralt lifted his chin as he noticed a familiar man enrobed in silk and jewels walking towards you. He took in a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the conversation ahead of undoubtedly mindless babble about his life and anything else the lord wished to ask him.

“And you never usually say no to free food,” he remarked quietly to you before forcing a tight smile at the open-armed, freely grinning man when he stopped in front of him.

“Geralt of Rivia!” he greeted, and you turned your head to meet him, only just refraining from raising your brows at the sight that met your eyes. You weren’t used to seeing royalty or regality of any sort, so you were never one to shy from your overly dramatic opinions of how these people dressed and carried themselves. You were quite certain all the clothes on your body wouldn’t amount to the price of a single ring on his finger, even though you’d had to beg Geralt for weeks to buy you the new leather boots on your feet now, just about hidden by your long dress.

Geralt had made an attempt to dress nicely, too. He’d washed and brushed his hair—and made several mock lunges (and one actual one) for you when you’d continued to tease him about it—and was wearing clothes that, though giving him an extremely regal look of his own, seemed unfamiliar to you. You much preferred him in his loose tunics and trousers, hair muddy and tangled in knots that he wouldn’t give a shit about until he needed to (which was barely ever, unless you were counting surprise and sudden invites to feasts such as this).

“Lord Lyon,” Geralt said with a small nod. “How is your sister?”

The lord reached forward to clap him on the shoulder, and this time, you did raise a brow, knowing your witcher’s dislike for such actions. Sure enough, Geralt’s smile grew tighter, and you could see the lines on his forehead become more pronounced. Perhaps in different circumstances—definitely in different circumstances—you would have laughed at his predicament, despite his clear discomfort, nevertheless this time you had to do with quickly turning your head to the side and stifling a grin.

“My sister fares well!” Lyon told him, not removing his hand. “She’s been asleep since you returned her safely to me, but the healers assure me she will make a full recovery. Thank you again for your unforgettable help, my friend!”

“Thank you for inviting me here tonight.”

Lyon stepped back, finally letting his hand drop to his side, and the corners of your lips twitched when Geralt subconsciously rolled his shoulder. “Well, this is the only other way I could think of repaying you when coin did not seem enough. A good meal!” It was at this moment, when you were shuffling from foot to foot in boredom, almost reverting back to your scratching and tugging, that Lyon noticed you, and he rose both eyebrows, glancing between you and Geralt. “And who might this be?”

“Y/N,” Geralt introduced, stopping you with a firm hand to your shoulder. You looked up at the lord, offering a smile. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought her.”

Lyon tilted his head slightly to the side in obvious interest, disregarding Geralt’s last sentence with a wave of his hand. “You mean she’s yours? Your daughter?”

You continued to stare at the man in front of you, unbothered. You were well used to being called his daughter—it was easier for him to agree when people asked if you were, and you sometimes wondered when exactly he’d given up on correcting people. If he’d ever corrected people in the first place.

“Your daughter?” Lyon repeated at Geralt’s lack of response.

“Yes.”

“I thought… well.” He looked a little sheepish, but Geralt was all too aware of what was coming. “I was always told that the trials witchers underwent made them—”

Geralt interrupted him before he could continue. “They did. I am.” He squeezed your shoulder. “She’s not mine by blood. But she is mine.”

Lyon stared a while, thinking to himself, before he abruptly smiled in acceptance. “Very good. Though I would never have taken you for the parent type.”

“My apologies,” Geralt said, inclining his head, “but you don’t know me well enough to make that assumption.”

A soft smile graced your lips and you glanced down to the ground, your heart swelling with love you could only ever feel for him.

“Quite right.” Lyon was clearly apologetic. He opened an arm out and motioned for the two of you to follow him. “Come, let us eat. You can tell us all exactly how you killed that werewolf!”

The hilariously dismayed look Geralt sent you after that made you snort.

4)

How had it come to this?

“Geralt?” you whispered, daring to edge closer. He looked so pale, even in the short rays of moonlight radiating down. His skin was pallid, white hair muddied and hanging in knots around his face. His eyes were shut, his lips were set in a straight line, and even as you shook his shoulder, he did not move.

He did not move.

Geralt always moved. He had long since trained himself to wake at the first sound or touch that did or didn’t come from you. And yet now, even as you doubled your attempts and shook him so hard you were sure he’d be disorientated were he awake… he remained still. Still and silent. Completely dead to the world.

Dead.

Your heart soared, not for the first time, and you sat back on your haunches for a moment, staring with eyes as wide as the yellow moon looming over head. It was almost as though your unconscious mind was waiting for him to wake up. Willing him to wake up. Because you knew good and fucking well that without him, the point of remaining in the living was completely lost on you.

Reluctantly, your mind swiftly hurled you back. Back into damn memories of the swings of his sword and his shouts of exertion and pain as he fought with the monster that had suddenly stormed where you’d been resting. You should have stayed behind the rocks as he’d ordered… you shouldn’t have listened to the clash of metal hitting sturdy skin and bone… and you certainly shouldn’t have jumped up from behind the rock and screamed his name, leading him to whirl around in panic and giving the beast time to throw him against a large boulder. You could still remember the sickening crack of his head hitting the solid stone. That would have been the perfect time to scream his name, but you’d found that no words had been able to escape your clenched throat. You’d felt like you were being strangled, and your heart had stopped beating for the longest second as you’d watched with absolute terror…

He’d been telling you a story. You’d been lying beside him, exhausted eyes staring up at the starry sky as his voice lulled you to sleep. You couldn’t even remember what the story had been about, all you’d been focused on was the comfort his voice offered, and for that reason you had not registered at all when he’d abruptly stopped speaking. He’d waited a moment, eyes narrowed, before quietly standing to his feet, picking up his sword as he went. All his senses had been alert, and were he an animal, his ears would have been pricked up and forwards, listening for any noise that sounded at all abnormal.

He’d taken calculated steps forward, hands tight around his sword’s hilt, boots making no sound as he stepped over fallen leaves and twigs. And then he’d stopped, standing completely still, save for his eyes, which roved the area in front of him. He’d turned his head the slightest bit and harshly whispered your name, but it had not been enough to rouse you, and you’d stayed sleeping until less than three seconds later when what you now believed to have been a kikimora burst from the cover of the trees, screaming raucously and lunging towards Geralt. You’d bolted upright and he’d yelled at you to hide yourself as his sword came clashing down on the thing, not waiting to see if you’d done as was asked before moving to attempt to lead the monster away.

That had been only three minutes ago. One and a half minutes ago, he’d been thrown against the boulder. One minute ago, he’d managed to use the last of his strength to pierce the beast’s hide with a cloying crunch, mixing with both his and the kikimora’s shrieks of agony. You had looked on with trembling hands as it fell to the side, completely unmoving, and watched, waited, for Geralt to stand to his feet.

When he hadn’t, you’d taken one trembling step forward, hands cold and in fists at your sides, before running the rest of the way, not caring in the least that there was a possibility the monster might still be alive. All you’d cared about was the possibility that Geralt might not be.

You stared at him now, hopefully waiting for his eyelids to flicker, or a finger to twitch… but there was no movement.

You shook him again, harder now, but it didn’t work, and with a desperation you had never felt before, and your breathing quicker than ever, you hurried closer towards him, grabbing the sides of his face and shaking him, slapping him, hitting him… anything that had a chance of waking him.

“Geralt!” you shouted, voice cracking. You slapped him again, pausing only when you felt something wet and sticky coat your right hand. When you pulled it back, the sight of red met your eyes.

You stared at it for a moment, hands shuddering, before the red and the blackness of everything else melded into one as tears filled your eyes. A tightening of your throat and a short intake of breath was all that was heard before gut-wrenching sobs tore through your chest and you fell forward, clutching your bloody hand to your chest and squeezing your eyes shut as your grief poured from you in an onslaught of irrepressible tears.

“Please, please, wake—wake up!” you choked out, your forehead resting against his chest, hands gripping his ragged tunic. “Please! I can’t—I can’t—Please! Geralt! You can’t die! You’re a witcher! Witchers don’t die! Wake up!”

But he didn’t.

You harshly breathed in with as much effort as you could muster, and the smell of blood overpowered your senses… yet, at the same time, there was still that hint of forest and greenery which made him Geralt. The scent that was often the only thing that could make you fall asleep. The scent that you only had to catch for a moment before you immediately calmed. The scent that, even now, amidst your hiccups and sobs, caused the briefest feeling of serenity to swirl through you before it vanished as the new, metallic aroma abruptly tickled at your nose.

Another sob racked your body when the scent disappeared and you shook your head. “Daddy…” It came out as a mewling whine, so broken and utterly devastating that it would have made even the heartless cry along with you, but there was no other sound… no other noise in the darkness of the forest around you except the guttural cries wrenching from your throat.

It was the feeling of being alone which scared you the most. The feeling of… being without the one person who’d ever made an ounce of sense to you. The one person you loved more than life itself and who probably loved you even more than that.

You would rather die alongside him than live in a world you knew he no longer walked in.

A moment passed, and you sat there, hunched over with your head on his chest and your tired hands slowly slacking in their hold on his tunic. Your eyes were red and swollen, cheeks wet and tracking the mud and blood which had inadvertently transferred from his clothing to your face, and you were shaking so much that when a slight tremor rippled beneath you, you took no notice of it whatsoever.

At an exhausted yet almost incoherent groan, you blinked, opening your eyes despite it doing nothing against the blackness of you face pressed to him. You tried to silence your cries as much as you could, holding your breath, not quite willing to believe it but hoping more than you’d ever hoped before all the same.

“Fuck…”

And you bolted upright, your eyes blinking against the blurriness. You wiped at them, your heart thumping, blood pulsing through your distraught and exhausted body, and looked on with shock as Geralt—yes, Geralt!—slowly raised his arm and brought his hand to the back of his head. His eyes squeezed tightly shut as his brows furrowed in obvious pain.

“My fucking head,” he rasped out, and you let loose a noise of relief, suddenly and without warning bursting into tears once again. You launched forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his chest. He groaned and finally opened his eyes to peer down at the mop of hair in his line of vision.

He gulped down the sickly feeling in his gut as best he could, trying to make sense of his surroundings, and after a moment the memories returned to him, causing him to shut his eyes once more at the force of it. He returned his attention to you, lowering his hand to place it on the back of your head.

When your sobs grew, his frown deepened and he tried to lift his own head, swallowing back bile when the throbbing ache increased. He felt nauseatingly terrible and instead dropped his head back to the hard rock below him. “Hey…” he whispered. His voice was hoarse and he didn’t really trust the words coming from his mouth. “It’s alright.”

You shook your head. “N-no! It is-isn’t! I thought you were dead!”

He sighed unsteadily and moved his trembling fingers through your hair, trying his best to block out the discomfort (which was a nice word for agony). “I’m not dead,” he told you, and you finally lifted your head, showing him the extent of your hysteria. You looked as though you’d been bawling for years, and he shook his head softly, raising his other arm to wrap around you and pull you back towards him. His head was pounding, he knew he was bleeding in more places than one, but to be perfectly honest, he was simply happy to be alive, and to be holding his child in his arms, however much he would be covered in tears and snot by the time he finally gathered the strength to push himself up.

“I thought you were,” you croaked out, and he rubbed his thumb across your temple. You reached up, grasping his hand, and he narrowed his eyes, blinking at the sight of blood coating your own.

“Is th-that yours?” he asked, the words feeling funny on his tongue as he stumbled over them. You sniffed and glanced to where he had turned your hand over in his.

“No,” you said, “it’s yours.” At that open revelation and reminder, you lifted your eyes, haphazardly wiping your hair from your face and blinking against the tears that still didn’t seem to be stopping. “It’s from your head. Does it hurt?”

Geralt’s face contorted into one of pain yet again as he reached his hand to his head, bringing it back and intaking a sharp breath once he saw the blood. “Damn,” he grumbled. “Yes, it hurts. Like hell.”

You unconsciously bit at the inside of your cheeks and watched him as he lowered his arm and shut his eyes. Your heart continued to pound and every so often your ragged breaths were interrupted by a hiccup. “I’m sorry,” you muttered after a short while.

He blearily opened his eyes to look at you. “Why?”

“I called your name,” you told him, “and you turned around.”

He nodded faintly in remembrance. “Why?” he repeated.

“I don’t know.” You swallowed thickly, tears fogging your vision again. “I was stupid. I just… got so scared, and I didn’t—I didn’t want you to… to…”

At your rising distress, he pulled you down to his chest again, ensuring your ear was conveniently placed over the left side of his chest. His heart was slow—perhaps a little faster than normal yet still slow all the same—but in the silence of the forest he knew you would be able to hear it and let it soothe you.

It worked, and the two of you stayed there for a while. Geralt fixed his attention on his own breathing, trying to match yours as he felt your pulse through his hands. He wondered briefly how far the nearest village was and if he could risk asking for medical help. Perhaps he could reach Triss in Novigrad, and both he and you would have a safe place to recuperate.

His muddled mind was interrupted when he turned his head and noticed the kikimora for the first time, lying in a rotten clump on the ground a couple feet from him. He swallowed the knot in his throat and shut his eyes, remembering all too clearly what had happened and, more importantly, how close it had been to getting you. Unconsciously, his hands tightened around you, and he slowly breathed out, calming himself before he let his emotions reign over him. You didn’t need to see that.

“It’s alright,” he said softly, more to himself, but it assured your all the same.

“Next time, I want to fight with you. I don’t want to watch. I’ve been trained for these moments.”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

“I thought you were going to leave me.”

“Leave you?” He shook his head. “No, no, never…”

He shut his eyes. He knew that the day he left you would be the day the stars burned out and the world became shrouded in darkness. To leave you would be to leave his heart, and that was the one thing that, no matter how battered and bruised, he would hold onto and keep safe with every fibre of his being.

It was his duty, after all.

As your father.

Witcher Masterpost

[mandareeboo]

SU Music Rankings

Bc I can and I wanna start some Disk Horse rip. These are all in order of preference, with explanations, etc. It’s a long bitch. That said, I’m not counting little short jingles or small joke songs like Little Butler. This is the meat and potatoes of SU music- just under 30 songs. I might do the rest if people like my takes lol.

I scored it mostly on three bases- how dear it was to my heart, how much/often I relisten to it, and also what it means to the plot. That said, little fun songs don’t automatically go farther down than big, plot-heavy songs either! It’s a strange little balance.

Special Note: I don’t dislike any of this music! I love SU and that includes its bumps and glitches. I just pick favorite children lol.

1.) Change

Was there ever a more Steven moment than when he wiped the blood off his face and kissed it into sparkles? I think not. 

If “Be Wherever You Are” is an ode to young Steven, then this is teen Steven’s. Talking about change, and how much and how little it can do. How he holds his arms up for Spinel to hug him, so trusting. How he seems able to just. Break into soft tears at will, and not to be manipulative- it’s just his kind nature. The warmth in his voice. Fuck yesssss.

2.) Change Your Mind

This song is only fifty five seconds and it’s EVERYTHING to me. It really felt like someone was speaking the words I’d always held deep inside of me, unsure of how to say. It feels like a goodbye to someone who never really loved me. 

As much as I enjoyed Future, if this was the finale of SU, I would’ve been perfectly okay with that.

3.) Drift Away

This song gave me legitimate shivers the first time I heard it, and it still haunts me to this day. Spinel stayed, and waited, and all she got was a transmission thousands of years later. Fuck.

4.) Here We Are In The Future

THE MOVIE IS SU AS ITS BEST AND I WON’T BE SWAYED ON IT. Steven being a teen who loves his weird family but is growing just a bit sarcastic to their drama. The adorable love he and Connie share. His slow realization that he will always be working, always have things to do, is both somber and real. The Crystal Gems won’t be safe with one epic battle. They’ll be safe with years of hard work and love. HIS LITTLE HANDSHAKE WITH AMETHYST.

This is a helluva bop and a great way to summarize the main character’s backstories.

5.) Let’s Only Think About Love

Did ya’ll know that Zach Callison killed his throat with that last note? He gave his all for this performance in a vocal range he no longer comfortably do and by god did it SHINE. The FLAIR. The FORESHADOWING. All of the Gems all being awkward about Rose and Steven trying to bring them to the present. Peridot having a mini-existential crisis in a cute yellow dress. I love Zach Callison’s normal singing voice but man is that a fucking bop. Nothing will ever beat it.

6.) Here Comes A Thought

This bad boy helped me out a LOT with some mental issues I was dealing with in high school. I was unmedicated, unsupervised, and full of anxiety. I’d have break downs when I tried to speak about certain things. I couldn’t function. This song inspired me. It helped me feel okay with my intrusive thoughts.

And the episode! -chef’s kiss-. Once again bringing up the morally gray area of training child soldiers. Connie expanding her social group. Steven’s trauma hauling ass in that second half. The ANIMATION. Stevonnie’s gorgeous singing voice. GOD yes.

7.) It’s Over Isn’t It?

Just barely squeaking above Stronger Than You, this ballad is everything gorgeous. The whole episode is. I think Mr. Greg stands in the top five of my episodes for the entire show. It even got nominated!

There’s just so much about this song that I love. The gentle melancholy of Pearl’s voice. How the crew had to redo the shots for this bit bc Deedee went so fucking hard. The hard cuts between Pearl, remembering the love of her life, and Steven, who has begun to feel like he took her away. I’d recommend this song to anyone, regardless of what they do or don’t know about SU, simply bc it tugs so many heartstrings of love, loss, and responsibility.

8.) Stronger Than You

Did you realize this episode aired SEVEN years ago? This bitch was what got me into SU! Hearing about Ruby and Sapphire made my little gay heart so happy inside, and then getting a whole song confirming that they were a couple, that their love powered the strongest Gem on the team? Aaaaaaaaa

To this DAY I get excited when I hear Estelle start singing. This song is timeless. This song will live in media history. God I fucking love this song.

9.) Other Friends

I’m not the biggest musical person, so I hadn’t heard of Sarah Stiles before her casting as Spinel, but JESUS CHRIST the lady went hard. She went SO fucking hard. Sarah Stiles started on 100 and somehow just kept CLIMBING. You can just hear the sheer manic energy building in her voice, the anger and resentment. 10/10 Sarah Stiles is a queen.

10.) Independent Together

This made the list entirely bc the crew was like “you’re gonna get a himbo ass Steven-Greg fusion singing with Opal while Garnet flies across the moon on Lion while floating” and I am forever thankful to them for it

11.) Who We Are

Bismuth deserved more songs. ‘Nuff said.

12.) Peace and Love (On the Planet Earth)

It Could’ve been Great is EASILY one of my favorite s2 episodes. I love the entire concept of this song. Of Steven making music to reflect how much Earth means to him and his family. Of him teaching Peridot some self-care. Also Peridot’s singing voice is really cute and squeaky. 

I know it’s silly, but I would’ve really enjoyed a flip around of this in Future! Like Peridot reminding Steven how much he loves music, that he needs to take time to relax for himself, maybe with a new verse or just a remix of the original song!

13.) Something Entirely New

I watched this episode as it aired, and I legitimately almost cried. I love Charlyne Yi’s voice so much ya’ll- her raspy, not perfect singing voice against Sapphire’s deep soothing lull is great.

And to have Ruby and Sapphire’s meeting be the way it was- for Ruby to bemoan Sapphire losing Homeworld, to being stuck with a single Ruby, while Sapphire is a noble who has always been taught everyone in her “caste” is vitally important (and has, in her own mind, taken that to mean every Gem, as she should) and how they come together and make each other happy. Good shit good shit.

14.) I’m Just a Comet

The fact that Greg’s music career never really blasted off pisses me off to this day bc Tom Scharpling’s voice is fucking BUTTER. Also the song really feels like a jab at his parents now that we know the kind of dynamic he had growing up. “This life in the stars if all I’ve ever known” is definitely him wiping away their existence after reminding them (and himself) the things they used to say about him.

15.) Do It For Her

This episode. This fucking episode. This episode got me permanently hooked on SU. I’d just binged season 1 and was kinda meh about it overall after the bop of Stronger Than You. “Oh,” I thought to myself, foolishly, “I’ll probably just casually watch this from time to time.”

Like three days later Sworn to the Sword aired and that was it. I was hooked! Pearl’s gentle training song turning darker and darker, Connie’s accompaniment from nervous to determined to fully into such a toxic mindset. The fact that SU had the BALLS to discuss the repercussions of training child soldiers, now and later. This episode was everything to me, STILL is everything to me.

Six years and well over 100 fanfics written later, I think it’s safe to say this show swallowed me whole and never let go.

16.) System/Boot.pearl_final(3)

I debated putting this on the list because it’s not anything crazy important, just a way to show things are Wrong, but I had to do it entirely bc Pearl is so damn SALTY.

Like telling us about the Gems makes sense, she felt like she was given a duty, but she went so damn petty. WHY is that Ruby alone. Gross. This Amethyst is a trash dump. Wtf are you people.

17.) Full Disclosure

This episode really feels like a turning point for SU. Before, the show had its dark moments- but now we’re in the thick of it, and it’s not going away. Full Disclosure felt like an rebuff to the idea of returning to any normal we’d established in season 1. Gems are actually a giant species now. Gems tried to kill us now. There’s this Yellow Diamond bitch who got namedropped. Something about a Cluster. 

The song itself is BALLER, with its ingenious use of Steven’s ringtone and photos as he tries to decide whether to clue in Connie on all this nonsense. Meanwhile we, the audience, already know damn well Connie about to yeet some common sense into him.

18.) What’s the Use of Feeling Blue?

I’mma admit it- I’m a Yellow Diamond stan. I’ve always loved her- her anger, her poise, her hardworking nature. I actively argued against the “Yellow Shattered Pink” theories back in the day. But, man, when this arc leaked? I got so overexcited I was too jittery to watch it for like two days. It’s easily my favorite arc of the series. The sheer alien nature of the zoo, the Famethyst, and absolutely Patti Lupone’s beautiful ballad. Goddamn. Yellow singing to Blue to try and help her regain her old status, the warble in her voice as she reminds Blue she misses Pink too, the movement of the bubbles as she talks about attack. It gives me shivers to this day. FUCK.

19.) Tower of Mistakes

This is, fun fact, that only SU song I have completely memorized. The story itself is kinda funny! See, we lost internet at my house for a solid 5 to 6 months when these episodes aired, so I only got a very brief window to view them all. But this was the first Amethyst song in a long while, and I didn’t want to forget it! So I keep replaying it in my head for ages. And that’s still definitely a thing.

Anyway will never not be sad that this entire song was about making it up to Garnet for Amethyst’s perceived slights with Sugilite (which was a two-way road), only for Garnet to pressure her into fusion later when pissed and never discuss it again bc Garnet probably never thought twice about it and Amethyst has the emotional openness of a clam that’s just been told its ugly. Helluva way to make someone feel like shit, G. Helluva way to bottle that shit, Ames.

20.) On the Run

I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times: Amethyst! Needed! More! Songs! 

The dichotomy between Steven’s play and Amethyst’s honest desire to run away from home is so well-done, especially when you consider a lot of Steven and Amethyst’s actions are playing together. The song is also near and dear to me simply bc it’s my favorite Amethyst episode to exist (well, maybe second to What’s Your Problem, but not by much). Moments like these are all the proof I need that they were right to fuse first.

21.) Be Wherever You Are

This tune really just feels like an ode to who Steven was as a kid. Trapped on an island with no way home, and he’s just happy to be with his friends. The stars are beautiful and not oppressive. Also that one animatic with Lars and the Off Colors playing in the Homeworld Kindergarten to this music was iconic and made this song get stuck in my head for a solid month.

22.) Familiar

I ADORE how the crew use bright neon colors to show how alien Homeworld can be. And Steven recognizing that the Diamonds treat him how the CGs used to, and how prepared he is to “fix” a broken family. It’s a soft, gentle tune about melancholy. Also the Pebbles are beautiful.

23.) Let Me Drive My Van Into Your Heart

Such a cute little love ballad, but every time I listen to it now I just imagine the heart attack Rose must’ve had at the line “And if we look out of place/Well, baby, that's okay/I'll drive us into outer space.” like there’s a Vietnam war flashback if I ever heard one

24.) What Can I Do?

I’m kind of neutral on this one? Rose and Greg both have great voices, but the song itself lacks many lyrics. I think it was definitely a good way to show Rose’s flaws in thinking.

Also, I’m shocked they managed cram that much vaguely sexual innuendo into two minutes, followed by how Not Hetereo that dance between Rose and Pearl was, and not get their asses chewed by it. You go guys.

25.) Cookie Cat

I love a lot of the vibes this song has. The lyrics are so damn prophetic, but they also sound like the kind of weird 90s commercials I grew up on. It’s been like two decades since I saw the Shirley Temple commercial but I’ll be damned if I don’t remember “Animals crackers in my soup! Monkey and rabbits loop-de-loop.”

26.) Giant Woman

I am. NOT the biggest fan of Steven’s original singing voice. I feel bad saying that, since it was just Zach Callison as a kid, but he never jived well with me for some reason. So I wouldn’t listen to this on the fly. 

The song itself is still really good though, with all sorts of fun animation of Amethyst and Pearl being bitchy to each other. It’s a bit sad in hindsight to see tiny Steven trying to get his moms to get along. Ahh, season 1.

27.) Strong in the Real Way

This song has SUCH a strong start. Pearl reflecting on Sugilite’s problems, but the show making sure to show us that Pearl’s lack of enthusiasm towards her also lends itself to jealousy as well as just general malaise. How much she cares about Steven, and wants him to grow up strong. 

And then Steven just kinda. Ruins it? I appreciate his enthusiasm for tryna bulk up but to take what was starting as such a rich, personal song and broadcasting it to random strangers just makes me a bit sad. Almost a bit angry on her behalf?

28.) That Distant Shore

I KNOW this is gonna create some discourse, but I’m just not the biggest Lapis stan. I love her voice. I love the visuals of the song. And I get why she felt afraid and needed to flee.

But Lapis never got to take responsibility for her own actions. And, in the end, the song feels hollow to me- because we all know she’ll never talk to anyone about it, know she’ll burst back in and destroy the barn, and no one will ever question it. I like Lapis a lot, but I feel like her arc never was fully finished. She never got help. She never learned to feel safe.

29.) Dear Old Dad

I’ve yet to meet a single human being who likes this episode tbh. There’s some great discussion about what kind of parent Greg is from it, and what kind of dynamic he has with the Gems that he felt he had to fake an injury to hang out with his son. Honestly the first half was fine and dandy. It’s just that then they Greg just went out of his way to drag Steven away from missions and such. It never jived well with his character before or after.

Also, is it just me, or does Zach himself sound like he hates the song as he sings it? There’s no passion or heart in his voice. It sounds like they told him to read off cue cards and he did. Tom Scharpling’s best attempts didn’t save this one for being a skipper. But the episode, unfortunately, isn’t, so it gets a spot on here.

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

What did you think about dick being the vampire king? I thought it was ridiculous but also works so good because dick is handsome and he makes me bark like a cliche cartoon wolf

I think it's both hilarious and interesting - if it's done right. Because on the one hand, so far, we've only seen straight up murder dick, we haven't seen him be strategic or 'normal vampire' self. just, you know, mean and murdery.

not to mention, he took damian with him - so I'd like to see how he acts in the next issue/with damian before I decide if I like vampy dick or not. (I mean, obviously he murdered most of his family, which was both bad and hilarious all in one, rip tim.)

in terms of story/writing, though, it kind of came out of left field, and while I'm enjoying the series, it's reminding me hardcore why I avoid things that James Tynion writes. Like, there was no build up or clue finding or anything? it was just hmm well okay joker's dead (and all issue 6 they're acting like they've talked about thinking it was the joker the whole time and, correct me if I'm wrong, the joker wasn't mentioned once???? so why tf did they think joker was vampire king, or even bring it up???) so it's gotta be one of us! and like, they didn't even give us a panel of everyone looking at each other before dick's like lol ok it's me teehee. there was straight up no reason dick had to reveal himself right there at that moment.

and like i said, I'm curious to see how he is a) with damian, whether he turns him or keeps him a captive human and b) with a damian who hates him. because while the whole scene of him murdering everyone was objectively silly - he just wouldn't?? to me, yeah vampire dick would be violent and rabid and all that, but to protect his family, not kill them, even if they did go against him. and I guess in this ~vampire lore~ it really takes your humanity? because i mean. it's just like Ollie said with Hal - Hal claims he was still in there, but Hal would never do these things? Bloodlust etc is one thing, but like...you get turned and you're immediately like 'power or nuthin no matter who gets in the way.'? yeah, i've read enough vamp stories to know that doesn't necessarily have to be the case, and didn't need to be here.

and oh my god rip tim that poor lil doofus. one thing to kill him but good lord the curb stomp was unnecessary and so fucking funny jesus christ.

(at the same time - bitch made SURE tim was dead. like yeah he bit damian and apparently just dropped him, only broke cass's arm, and offered to turn jason/tried. but tim? talk about overkill. damn tim what did you do to him in this universe.)

but can confirm, even my ace ass was like 'oh my god murder vamp dick is the hottest creature ever created. 🤤🤤🤤'

but oh my god can we talk about how much jason cares for damian in this series. its all i want their canon brotherhood to be 😭

[hotdamnhunnam]

Jax Teller: Fuck You Better

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: Here’s Part 2 of your BFF Jax Teller giving you the best sex ever!! There is some fluff because the two of are you totally in loooove... but also lots of smut, now that Jax knows you like it rough 😜 Recommend reading Part 1 first—Part 2 picks up where we left off...

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex, dom!Jax Request: This AMAZING anon request

Word Count: ~2.8k

... Continued from Part 1 [Read Here]

Bet you’d like that. Wouldn’t you, bitch.

The fact that he just dared to say that shit... so fucking savage. So damn stupid. Standing there and slaying you with his smoldering stare—then in the next split second, slamming you against the wall again, coming within an inch of swallowing the space that’s left between your lips and his—that sacred distance, all the safety that you cling to in resistance...

“We shouldn’t do this, Jax,” you try and fail to push him back, though you’re already soaking from how suddenly the beast in him attacks. “Jax, we just can’t—we can’t go there...”

Why does he have to be so fucking big and strong and tall? One forearm braced against the wall, his other hand rakes through your hair. “Oh, I ain’t going nowhere.”

It’s taking all your strength to keep your shit together. “I’m serious, Teller. We promised each other we’d never—”

Now he has both hands in your hair, which really isn’t fair. “I don’t... fucking... care.”

You dare to meet his clear blue stare, and all you see there in his eyes... is all the truth behind the lies: that he cares more than anything. And is no longer scared to tell you everything.

“You know what else we promised? To always be honest,” he fiercely reminds you; it’s true. “And I’ve broken that promise again and again, Y/N. For fucking years I haven’t told you what I really wanted. What I’ll always want.”

His name escapes you in a moan. “Jax, don’t...”

“Don’t what,” he interrupts. “Don’t tell you that it kills me every time I think about some undeserving dick fucking you up? Don’t tell you that your face is all I see whenever I’m inside another random slut? Don’t wanna hear it? I don’t give a shit. ‘Cause I am done keeping my mouth shut.”

Oh, this is too damn much. You fight against the impulse to dissolve to dust beneath his words, his touch, to just surrender and succumb. Fight desperately to keep your dignity intact. “Jax, you don’t really mean that! You just wanna fuck the only girl you’ve never had! Then once you’re done, I’ll just become...”

The thought of what you’re saying now completely shocks and sickens him. He looks like he’s gone numb. “My God, Y/N, are you that fucking dumb? You think I’m—”

“I don’t know what to think. I don’t know anything. Except that if this happens, Teller, I will never love another man again,” you tell him, honest as you’ve ever been. Somehow his touch upon your skin, here in this moment, rips your heart open and summons all the truth from deep within. “Jax, if I let you in... I’ll be ruined.”

The words have been spoken; there’s no turning back. Your heart is laid bare to be taken and broken by Jax.

And he takes it. He fucking attacks. “Ruined?” he repeats—yet when the word falls from his lips, heavy with heat, it hits so different. “You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing, Y/N. Trust me, it isn’t. That’s just what I’m planning on doing.”

Oh God. Oh God. Jax makes total destruction sound so fucking hot. Every cell in your body is melting with... fuck, you don’t even know what. You have never been so deep in love, and you’ve never been such a damn slut.

He goes on to tell you exactly what he meant. Exactly what he wants. “If this happens, Y/N... when this happens... I don’t want any other man putting his hands on you—holding you, loving you, fucking you—coming anywhere close to my woman ever again.”

His woman? His woman?! Did he just say the word ‘coming’? The submissive whore inside you has officially been summoned.

And the dom inside him knows just what he’s doing. “You ready to be ruined? If you let me in, I swear I’m going to destroy your cunt. I want you to be ruined for all other men. You understand?”

“Yes,” you respond, yielding to his demands, giving in to this god of a man just as fast as you possibly can. Never been such a mess.

“You want the guy who’s gonna fuck you best? And love you best? ‘Cause I promise that’s always gonna be me, Y/N,” your beautiful best friend professes his love again. “Whether you’ll have me or not, I will love you like I always have, more than anything, anyone else. I won’t stop.”

“Then don’t. Don’t stop,” you beg him, cradling his flawless face within your hands, so close yet never close enough. Not till he’s deep inside you, till the two of you are one. “Jax, you’re the only man I’ll ever want. Love you so much it fucks me up.”

His palm upon your cheek is so painfully soft, before the hot passionate sex that’s bound to be a hundred shades of hard and rough. And then he leans in toward your breathless lips... to kiss you for the first time now you’re finally fucking his. “Yeah, that’s my kind of love.”

By the time the kiss is done, you have no clue just how much time has gone. Two seconds? Twenty thousand? Doesn’t make a fucking difference. Time begins just as it ends: it doesn’t even, when you’re stuck so deep in heaven.

When Jax finally pulls back, it’s just because he knows how much higher the two of you can go. This kiss, as epic it is, is just part one. The trip to heaven’s only just begun. “Tell me what you want, Y/N.”

“You, Jax. I want you,” you effuse, still high on just how fucking good it feels to tell him something true. To give life to the love you’ve always tried to hide from view. “Always and only you.”

He smiles against your lips, and you can feel his while curling at the edges, into something of a smirk. The dirty devil deep inside him is about to get to work. “Yeah? And what do you want me to do?”

“Everything.”

The smirk flickers into a snicker, as he twines through your hair with his masterful fingers, until your toes are curling, insides totally unfurling. “Use your words, darlin’. Be fucking specific. Tell me what’s missing when you settle for some lesser dick. ‘Cause all those spots he missed... I’m gonna fucking hit.”

Oh, you don’t doubt it. He already is—how did you ever live before this? Haven’t even taken Jax’s dick yet and already you can’t fucking live without it.

He had commanded you to use words, but your brain is just a blur.

And so he orders you again, hand drifting down toward your dripping cunt, demanding a response. “Tell me... what you... want.”

Fuck. Holy fuck. Some kind of answer leaps off of your tongue, as you choke out the words in a stammering grunt. “J-Jax, I can’t—can’t even talk. I want... I need your fucking cock.”

The dirty bastard chuckles as your knees buckle. “To suck? To fuck?” he taunts. “Want me to read your mind, slut? Listen to your body, see the signs? Guess I can do that. Now that it’s all mine.”

As his big strong arms wrap around you now to lift you up and carry you to bed, one thing is spinning through your head: your mind is reeling from the fact that Jackson Fucking Teller just called you a slut. And not just as a joke, from friend to friend—no, as his woman. The truth is you’ve dreamt of this moment more often than you’d ever want to admit. But somehow Jax just knew it. And now that it’s finally happened, you want him to do it again and again and again.

“That turn you on?” he laughs, as if he has to ask, throwing you down onto the mattress flat against your back. Unfastening his jeans now as he stands between your knees, towering over your trembling body. “You like it when I talk dirty? You like knowing that you fucking belong to me?”

What even... are you in literal heaven? He is seriously godly.

Jax pulls down his jeans and boxers so damn slowly, knowing fully that you’ve never wanted anything so badly. “Then let me tell you, slut—you’re gonna love the way I fuck. You’re gonna love taking this big hard fucking cock.”

You honestly can’t think. Cannot fathom the fact that this happening. Cannot believe your luck.

When Jax’s massive meat is finally unleashed... your eyes go wide just at the sight, and he smirks down at you with pussy-soaking pride. And he has every fucking right. It’s everything you need. It’s so ridiculously huge, throbbing and thick between his strong muscular thighs, and you have no clue how it’s gonna fit inside you, but you want it to destroy you all damn night. 

“Told you I fuck the way I fight,” he says, staring into your eyes as he swiftly and easily strips off your dress. “I fuck to win. To fucking ruin. By the time the night is done, you’re gonna think you fucking died.”

Sweet Jesus Christ. You’re finally naked on the bed, and you have never been so wet. You need that big hard cock to drive between your legs, to treat you to the world’s most epic sex. And yet you’re also desperate to give him head, because his dick looks honestly delicious. What you need is for this man to fuck all your holes, to feed your shamelessly slutty soul. And so the words escape you in a needy, greedy splutter. “God, just—just fuck me, Teller.”

His smirk is so dark as he teases you with the promise of his big perfect cock, and it’s really the hottest thing ever. The force of his dominance fills your heart, tears you apart, as it holds you together. “Mmm, baby, I can tell you’ve never been wetter. Knowing nobody can fuck you better.”

Holy fucking hell...

Jax finally gets himself onto the bed, straddling your chest, reading your mind so well. Ready to feed your thirst. “Face first?”

You give him the obvious answer. “Yes, sir.”

The word earns you another smirk. Taking his cock in his fist, the wet tip of it hovering over your lips, Jax begins to jerk. “Sir, huh?”

“Jax—” you gasp, but before you can even attempt to say anything else, your whole mouth is stuffed. “Unphh...”

Mother of God—his cock tastes so insanely good. Tastes even better than it looks, better than you had thought it would. It doesn’t even make sense for a dick to taste like this, but from the first second Jax first let you taste the tip, you know you’ll never get enough. You’re so fucking in love.

“Yeah, that’s it. Good girl,” your lover snarls in approval as he starts bucking his hips, shoving his thick shaft deeper past your panting lips. “Dirty little slut. So fucking desperate for my cock. Now suck.”

Jax takes a firm grip of your head and fucks your face into the bed and you are well and truly dead.

You might honestly get off from the sounds out of his mouth alone. The way he growls and grunts and groans. Calls you his filthy fucking whore, cocksucking bitch. It isn’t long before his breathing starts to hitch, and you can feel his length inside your mouth begin to throb and twitch. 

As desperate as you are to take his load, to swallow all his cum down your devoted throat... before you can, your man has other plans. He slides his dick out of your mouth, positioning his body further down. Groping all over you with his dominant hands. And you’re all set for him to spin you right around—given the rough tone that he’s set, seems only natural he should take you from behind—spanking your ass until it’s red, yanking your hair, making you arch your spine, as he bends you over the bed and plows his dick inside, taking you there, and blows your goddamn mind...

But no, at least not yet—instead, Jax keeps you on your back just as you are, his gorgeous body hovering above yours on the bed. Kisses you passionately on the mouth until you’re seeing stars, and reads the mess of thoughts swirling around inside your head.

“It’s our first fucking time, Y/N. You think I wanna miss a thing?” he breathes into the kiss, grinding his dick against your soaking pussy lips. “Eyes open, babe. I won’t ever forget this moment. Want you to see everything. Feel everything. Because that’s what you are to me, and always have been. Love you more than anything.”

...This cannot be real life right now? Just... how? What the actual fuck is even happening?

“Don’t worry, darlin’... making love still can still be good and rough,” he speaks the words just as he starts plunging inside you without warning, till you’re fucking stuffed. Then he reminds you of the silly thing you’d said before. The stupid words that sort of started all of this, for better or for worse... scratch that, most definitely better. “Said you wanted my balls to kiss your ass. Remember that? This good enough, you filthy little whore?”

Oh fuck. Oh yes. Your pussy stretches open for his perfect cock, so full it feels it’s gonna bust, now as his balls slap up against your ass with every perfect thrust. And all you want is fucking more. His hips are moving in a rough, ravaging rhythm, as you savor every second of this perfect pleasure with him. 

All the while, Jax whispers dirty words into your ear with his devilish smile—taking this dick so good... yeah, that’s it, bitch... so fucking tight, so wet... ugh, such a filthy little slut—mixed in with sweet nothings that seriously fuck you up—you are so fucking perfect... you have no clue how long I’ve been wanting this, wanting you... God, babe, I love you so much...

You both want this to fucking last. To ride as many waves as possible higher and higher, building on the fire of your shared desire, till you finally hit your climax. 

But it’s not long before both you and Jax lack any more strength to hold back. You explode in the same exact moment, both screaming and moaning, hearts open, as you finally give yourselves over to everything you had been dreaming and hoping. Both so scared till now of what you might have lost—but whatever it was... this is well worth the cost. Now that you know it’s more than just lust.

You and your best friend Jax Fucking Teller are officially fucking in love.

You find yourself drowning again in his kisses—they’re fucking delicious—with no sense of how much time passed once you’re both finally finished. Lying back on the pillows to catch your breath, coming to life after loving each other to death. God, so fucking in love...

Once your senses have somewhat come back, you glance over at Jax, not quite sure what to make of the question he asks. “Did we just take the ‘F’ off?”

You blink up at him in confusion. “Huh?”

His luscious lips curve up into a boyish little grin. “You know—BFF... BF...”

Finally getting what he means, you cuddle in closer with the lifelong man of your dreams. “Are you saying you want to be my boyfriend, Jackson Teller?” you playfully tease. “Are you asking if this means that we’re officially together?”

This badass biker looks so damn sheepish and shy right now you might honestly die. “I mean, I’ve never fucked someone I love before... isn’t this how it works?” he murmurs. “Just making sure.”

You’re now convinced, as if you weren’t before, that you could not possibly love him any more. Jax Teller is a fucking treasure. Exists to be cherished, adored. “You’re so cute when you’re clueless,” you tell him, softly nuzzling the tip of your nose against his. “So you really wanna do this?”

“Did I stutter, bitch?” he huffs. “I want to take the ‘F’ off. Told you I’m in love.”

“I love you too, Teller. But I dunno—I really like the last ‘F’ for ‘forever’...”

“Hmm, yeah so do I...” he sighs, and you can see the color of forever in his eyes, true and blue as the sky. “But you know what—just fuck the labels. Fuck the letters. None of that shit matters.”

Nothing matters but the love that you’re so blessed to share with your best friend forever, Jackson Fucking Teller.

So he tells you, for good measure. “All you need to know is this: you’re fucking mine, and I am yours. I fucking promise... every day that we’re together... gonna love you more... and fuck you even better.”

***************

Hope you enjoyed this!! Would love to hear if you did! 🤗❤️

I think one of my other fics – Louder, Bitch – makes an especially great sequel to this! ✨

Masterlist

Tag List – Join Here!*

*If you’re unable to use that link to join the tag list, just let me know and I’ll manually add you to it!

@itsme-autumn @rebelwrites @happyhenners @band--psycho @witching-hour @est11 @edonaspanca @ughdontbeboring @neverland14353 @starbooty @coffeequeenxx @innerpaperexpertcloud @i-love-scott-mccall @six-camelot @alexa-rae-dreamz @justme2042 @awesomenatalia @auroraariza @rochyu @coffeebooksandfandom @inlovewithcharliehunnam @turner-cris @thesuicidalflower @chrmdnbeautiful @xladymacbethx @holl2712

[jayoctodot]

The Silent Patient vs The Maidens

I will start by saying that I understand the appeal of these novels as page-turners. They are easy to read and if you want a twisty reveal at the end, you will probably be entertained and satisfied. That being said, I am SO CONFUSED by the near-universal adoration of The Silent Patient and the reasonably positive reception of The Maidens. The weaknesses of the two are strikingly similar, as well, which doesn’t give me much hope of seeing improvement from this guy, though I am intrigued to see whether he keeps repeating the same (apparently successful!!) patterns. These books were at least super fun to hate.

(For context, I read The Maidens for a bookclub I'm in, because several of the members had read and loved The Silent Patient, and one of them gave me a copy of the latter to read on my own time. I loathed The Maidens and then read The SP for comparative purposes. And because I'm a masochist, apparently.)

SPOILER WARNING! Do not read on unless you've finished both books (or unless you care not for spoilers). Sorry if it gets a bit shouty.

Here are the similar weaknesses I noticed in both:

PSEUDO-PSYCHOLOGY

-> Weirdly similar “group therapy” scenes early on where a cartoonishly unstable patient arrives late, disrupts the meeting by throwing something into the middle of the circle, and is asked to join the group after the therapist(s) speechify on the importance of boundaries (HA! None of these therapists would know an appropriate boundary if it kicked them in the ass) and debate whether to “allow” the patient to join. Both scenes are so transparent in their design to establish the credibility/legitimacy of the narrators as therapists, but instead both Theo and Mariana come off as super patronizing. The protagonists are less and less believable as therapists at the stories progress (though at least Theo’s incompetence is explained away by the “twist” at the end; Mariana, on the other hand, is confronted in the opening pages of the novel by a patient who has self-harmed PRETTY extensively, and rather than ensure he get proper medical attention, she essentially throws him a first aid kit and tosses him out the door so she can pour herself a glass of wine and call her niece... and it devolves from there).

-> Ongoing insistence throughout the narrative that one’s childhood trauma entirely explains the warped/dysfunctional way a character behaves or views the world, which is why the books go out of their way to give EVERY potentially violent character a traumatic childhood; when Theo insists that no one ever became an abuser who hadn’t been abused themselves, I wanted to throw the book across the room. (That is a MYTH, SIR. GET OUT OF HERE WITH YOUR ARMCHAIR PSYCHOLOGY.)

-> Female murderers whose pathology boils down to “history of depression” and “traumatized by a male loved one/family member.” Because, as we all know, depression + abuse = murderer!

-> The “therapy” depicted in both books is laughable and so so unrealistic, mostly because neither narrators function as therapists so much as incompetent detectives, obsessively pursuing a case they have no place pursuing (or skill to pursue - both just happen across every clue mostly by way of clunky conversation with all the people who can provide precisely the snippet of info to send them along to the next person, and the next… until all is revealed in a tired, cliched “twist”). Their constant Psych 101 asides were so tiresome and weirdly dated (also, the constant harping on countertransference got so ridiculous that at one point during "therapy" Theo literally attributes his headache and a particular emotion he feels to Alicia, as though the contents of her head are being broadcast directly into his mind... and I'm PRETTY SURE that's not how it works???)

CHARACTERS

-> Psychotherapist narrators with abusive fathers and pretensions of being Sherlock Holmes, which results in both characters crossing ALL KINDS of ethical lines as they invade the personal lives of everyone even tangentially connected to their cases (and, in Theo's case, violate all kinds of patient confidentiality. Yeah, yeah, by the end, that's the least of his offenses, but before you get there, it's baffling that NO ONE is calling him out on this).

-> All female characters are either elderly with hilariously bad advice, monstrous hulking brutes, or beautiful bitches (except for ~MARIANA~, who is Bella Swan-esque in her unawareness of her own attractiveness, despite multiple men trying to get with her almost immediately after meeting her. I'm so tired of beautiful female characters being oblivious to their own hotness. Are we meant to believe all mirrors and male attention have escaped their notice? If it’s to make them “relatable,” this tactic really fails with me).

-> All characters of color are shallow, cartoonish side characters, and most of them are depicted as unsympathetic minor antagonists (the Sikh Chief Inspector in The Maidens continuously drinks tea from an ever-present thermos, and his only other notable characteristic is his instant dislike of Mariana, whom he VERY RIGHTLY warns to stay out of the investigation that she is VERY MUCH compromising… the Caribbean manager of the Grove is universally disliked by her staff for enforcing stricter safety regulations at the bafflingly poorly run mental institution, because HOW DARE SHE. There's a very clear vibe that we're supposed to dislike these characters and share the protagonists' indignation, but honestly Sangha/Stephanie were completely in the right for trying to shut down their wildly inappropriate investigations).

-> "Working class" characters (or basically anyone excluded from the comfortably upper-crust, educated main cadre of characters) are few and far between in both stories, but when they show up, he depicts them as such caricatures. We got Elsie the pathologically lying housekeeper in the Maidens, who is enticed to share her bullshit with cake, and then a TOOTHLESS LEPRECHAUN DEALING DRUGS UNDER A BRIDGE in the SP. I kid you not, a man described as having the body of a child, the face of Father Time, and no front teeth, emerges from beneath a bridge and offers to sell Theo some "grass." I was dyinggg.

-> There are no characters to root for. Anywhere. Partly because they’re all so thinly drawn — and because we’re clearly supposed to view almost ALL of them as potential suspects, so they’re ALL weird, creepy, or incompetent in some way.

-> The flimsiest of flimsy motives, both for the narrators and the murderers. Theo fully would have gotten away with his involvement in the murder if he hadn't gone out of his way to work at the Grove and "treat" Alicia and his justification for doing so is pretty weak; his rapid descent into stalking and murder fantasy and his random ass decision to "expose" Alicia's husband as a cheater with a spur-of-the-moment home invasion and staged attempted homicide is ONLY justified if the reader hand waves it away as WELP, HE'S CRAZY, I GUESS (after all, he DID have an abusive father and a history of mental illness, and in Michaelides novels, that's ALL YOU NEED to become a violent psycho). I guess we're lucky Mariana didn't also start dropping bodies (because the logic of his fictional universe says she should definitely be a murderer by now... maybe that'll be his Maidens sequel?). But she especially had NO reason to randomly turn detective - and she kept trying to justify it by saying she needed to re-enter the world or that Sebastian would want her to (??), even though she had no background in criminal psychology... or even a particular fondness for mysteries (really, I would've accepted ANYTHING to explain her dogged obsession with the case. WHY were Sebastian and Zoe so certain she would insert herself into the investigation just because one of Zoe's friends was the first victim? WHY?). As for Zoe and Alicia, their motives are mere suggestions: they were both abused and manipulated, and voila! Slippery slope to murder.

WRITING STYLE

-> Incessant allusions to Greek tragedy and myth, apparently to provide a sophisticated gloss over the bare-bones writing style, which opts more for telling than showing and frequently indulges in hilariously bizarre analogies. Credit where credit is due — the references to Greek myth are less clunky in the SP, and I liked learning about the Alcestis play/myth, which I hadn’t heard of before - but OMG the entire characterization of Fosca, who we are meant to believe is a professor of Greek tragedy at one of the most respected universities on the planet, is just absurd. His "lecture" on the liminal in Greek tragedy is essentially the Wikipedia page on the Eleusinian Mysteries capped off with some Hallmark-card carpe diem crap. The lecture hall responds with raucous applause, clearly never having heard such vague genius bullshit before.

-> Super clunky and amateurish narrative device of interludes written by another character; Sebastian’s letter reads like a mashup of Dexter monologues and Clarice’s memory of the screaming sheep, but by FAR the worse offender is Alicia’s diary, where we’re supposed to believe she painstakingly recorded ENTIRE CONVERSATIONS, BEAT-BY-BEAT DIALOGUE, even when she’s just been DRUGGED TO THE GILLS with morphine and has mere moments of consciousness left… and even before that, she literally takes the time to write “He's trying the windows and doors! ...Someone’s inside! Someone’s inside the house! ETC ETC” when she thinks her stalker has broken in downstairs. WHO DOES THAT?)

-> Speaking of dialogue, the dialogue is so bad. Based on his bio, Michaelides got a degree in screenwriting, which makes his terrible dialogue even more baffling.

-> HILARIOUSLY rendered voyeur scenes where the narrators spy on couples having sex. Such unintentionally awkward descriptions. First we had Kathy’s climax sounds through the trees and then the bowler hat carefully placed on a tombstone before the gatekeeper plows a student. Again, I died.

PLOT/"TWIST"

-> The CONSTANT red herrings make for such an exhausting read. Michaelides drops anvils with almost every character that are so obviously meant to designate them as suspects in our minds. There is absolutely no subtlety in his misdirections.

-> The “crossover” scene between the SP and The Maidens makes no sense - when in the timeline does Mariana’s story overlap with Theo’s? They confer just before Theo starts working at the Grove, obviously (though Mariana appears to be the one who alerts Theo to the job opening there? Whereas in the SP, Theo has been obsessively tracking Alicia since the murder and had already planned to apply to work there?), but then are we supposed to believe that while Theo has been psychotically pursuing his warped quest to “help” Alicia, he’s also been diligently treating Zoe, so invested in her case that he repeatedly reaches out to Mariana to get her to visit Zoe and even writes Mariana a lengthy letter to convince her to do so??? And then a couple days after The Maidens ends, Theo is arrested???

-> But the thing I really did hate the most is how Michaelides treats his female murderers (who are both also victims themselves) as mere means to deploy a “twist”; there’s no moment spared to encourage our sympathy for Zoe, who was groomed and manipulated by the only trusted father figure in her life, and even after spending a decent amount of time getting to know Alicia via her ridiculous diary, where it’s so apparent that she’s been demeaned, objectified, manipulated, gaslit, and/or used by EVERY man in her life, she’s sent packing to spend the rest of her days in a coma… HOW much more satisfying would it have been for her to succeed in exposing Theo and reclaiming her voice? But no, she basically rolls over when he comes to finish her off (SPEAKING OF — ARE WE SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE THERE ARE NO SECURITY CAMERAS IN THIS INSTITUTE FOR THE CRIMINALLY INSANE????), writes one last diary entry, and drifts off forever. And then a couple pages of nothing later, the story is over. GOODNIGHT, ALICIA!

Both books kept me rolling throughout (by which I mean eye-rolling but also rotfl). Maybe I will check out his next effort — I’m morbidly curious what he’ll turn out. It does leave me wondering whether I should give up on thriller novels entirely, though. Are many of the weaknesses of these novels just characteristic of the genre? Maybe I'm just holding these books to unfair standards? I'm mostly only familiar with thriller films — many of which I think are amazing — but maybe you can get away with more in a film than you can in a novel.

...I really only intended to write a handful of bullet points, but more and more kept coming to mind as I wrote, to the point where subheadings became necessary. Whoopsie.

[sebstanseabass]

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 9

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

CHAPTER NINE

For the first time in your life, you awoke in your own pool of sweat and with the fresh thoughts of Bucky as he managed to scoop you up with his strong lean arms and take you right then and there at the kitchen counter in your wild, vivid memory of dreams.

You blamed Nat for this. If it wasn't for her, you wouldn't even have inappropriate thoughts towards Bucky. Yes, you did notice his strong masculine exterior, jaw sharp as a killer's knife, body as strong as a boulder, and legs that could easily kill but did you have any thoughts on advancing towards him? No, absolutely not. He was Peter's stepbrother for crying out loud. But last night, something changed in the laws of physics. It was as if two resting bodies silently reacted to one another without a sudden force acting upon the two.

That morning, you didn't dare find out if Bucky was still in your apartment. You skipped your morning run and headed up towards the rooftop using the ladder right outside your window with a hot cup of coffee in your hand (which spilled a bit on the way up, by the way) and enjoyed the scent and sight of the dirtier part of New York City -- all its damp, cigarette covered pavements.

For the next few days, you saw no sign of Bucky. He hadn't been in the bar or in your apartment, as much as you wished he would stop by once in a while. But then, you would hear Peter talk to him on the phone every single night.

You never thought Bucky's lack of presence would start to bother you. It wasn't just the feelings of sudden desire you had for him but also the weird time you shared together -- as if you were just old friends catching up. You found it absolutely crazy how a lot of things just happened in the course of a day.

You wanted to ask Peter about Bucky's whereabouts, just a casual slip of "Hey, where's Bucky?" but you never dared to ask. So when Peter blabbed during a movie night that Bucky had been way too busy managing some business meetings, gatherings, and whatnots ever since he got back in the city, you were more than glad.

Nat had been coming to the bar every night ever since Tuesday, picking up extra shifts. She kept badgering you about Bucky this and Bucky that. She was one of the reasons why you couldn't keep Bucky out of your head. Her sudden long shifts at the bar wasn't only because she was so invested with your nonexistent dating life or, to her, a possibility of one with Bucky, but because she and Steve were secretly hooking up. Of course, she didn't tell you that. It's not like she needed to, anyway. It only took one sniff of Steve's strong scent on hers for you to find out.

Every passing day at the bar felt so slow and the same. The only thing that changed was Peter rejecting a drink on one Thursday night.

"Woah, what got your knickers on a twist?" You asked as soon as he approached the counter.

"I'm just not in the mood, y/n." He sighed. "Can I just have a glass of water, please?"

"Of course. Coming right up." You slid the glass of water on the counter towards him, your fingers drumming against the thick wood. "So, what's bothering you?"

He looked up at you with sulky eyes. "Oh god, you really are a bartender."

"And your best friend. So, what's up?"

He shook his head nothing, sipping the glass of water like a scotch.

His little act was unconvincing. Especially that he didn't try hard enough to conceal whatever he was feeling.

"Parker." You insisted. "Come on, what's up?"

"You see right through me, y/n."

"Don't flatter me too much," you rolled your eyes, "you're just easy to read."

But Peter was also stubborn as a bull. He wouldn't budge or give you any clue on what was bothering him. You thought that leaving him as you tended to other bargoers would eventually give him time to change his mind but you were proven wrong. It itched your brain that he wouldn't tell you whatever it was. You usually told each other everything. But then again, you haven't really been open with him with your growing desire for his stepbrother -- which, you hoped you never would, as you hoped all those feelings would eventually go away and keep it in a state of latency.

Peter stood by his ground, consuming no ounce of alcohol and keeping his mouth shut the rest of the night. You knew when to keep away from other people's business, even if it was your best friend's. You did try to make his evening lighter though, checking up on him and telling some old, classic bartender stories, seeing as he was clearly in an uncomfortable state but all he kept telling you was: "You're killing me, y/n. You're absolutely killing me."

You felt a heavy feeling on your chest with his surprisingly fierce tone. You urged him to go home after that, so he did.

"Dick." You mumbled after he left.

Nick walked towards the counter. "What's wrong with your roommate?"

"Wish I could tell you."

You and Nick have been getting along well despite you rejecting him. Nat kept telling you it was a way of manipulating you or some sort, to get you close to him but nothing has really happened ever since he asked you out. There wasn't a change in mood in the atmosphere, or even the way he treated you. Just some good colleagues working together.

The next night, Peter was more in the mood and even apologized to you for the way he behaved last night. "Now, for some great news."

"Does this mean you're having a drink?" You asked.

He nodded eagerly and patiently waited for his beer. Once he got his cold sip, he continued talking: "So, I've been really in a slump lately because I'm kind of lovesick. But then -- "

"Wait, what did you say?" You knitted your brows together, catching the last word he said. "Did you say lovesick? You son of a bitch, are you in love?"

"Language!" Out of nowhere, Steve yelled over the buzzing noises inside the bar. You snickered and he just gave you a look before he disappeared back into his office.

He is such a grandpa.

Peter chuckled. "To be honest, I have been for a very long time."

Your jaw dropped on the floor, ears all perked up, wanting to hear every detail of this. "And you never thought to tell me? Parker, I've been your best friend since forever. Why the hell wouldn't you tell me?"

"Because..." He trailed off, avoiding your stare. "It's not that big a deal."

"Okay, was this after that bitch Denise?"

"Actually, waaaay before that."

"Oh wow, that long, huh?" You replied. "Oh my god, is it someone we know from college? Shit, is it MJ?"

"No, it's not!" He replied. "And I'm not telling you who because I don't have actual plans on pursuing her." He sighed through his nose while taking a big sip of his beer. He brought down the bottle on the counter with a loud thud.

"So, it's a girl."

He grunted in reply.

You laughed. "So, why not pursue her?" You asked while multitasking. You handed a bowl of peanuts to the man beside Peter who was asking for it. "Is she taken? Does she have a boyfriend? A girlfriend?"

"No, she doesn't."

"So, why the hell not, Parker?"

You impatiently waited for an answer from Peter as it took him a couple of minutes to do so.

"Because I don't think it's a good idea. I don't think it will ever work." He answered, scratching the label on his beer bottle with much frustration. "I've thought about all the probabilities, but every single one of them ends the same."

"And what is that?"

"That it won't work out."

The thing about Peter was he never dive into things headfirst. Even though he was a dumbass, he was always a man of intellect who calculated everything in his head before committing to something.

"Why is it always statistics and probabilities and all that crap with you?" You let out an exasperated sigh. "What if for once in your life, follow your goddamn heart? You keep treating everything with a business mind. Go with what your gut tells you to do. Don't think too much about it because the heart wants what it wants, Parker."

Peter gazed at you for a few moments, perhaps finding the right words to say but he just shook his head and fought against his feelings. "I can't do it, y/n. I badly want to, like, it's already at the tip of my tongue. I badly want to tell her but I can't. I don't want to know what's gonna happen next. I'm just scared of what's gonna happen. I don't think I can take it."

As much as you wanted to convince him to go for the girl, you let it go. You've said what you had to say but it was always up to him whether he takes your advice or not. "So, what now?"

"Well now, I'm going to tell you the good news, the one you robbed me off when you batted in."

You rolled your eyes. "What's the good news, Parker?"

"Me and my colleagues will go on a corporate retreat for at least a week!"

You raised an eyebrow, writing a confused expression on your face. "How is this good news?"

"I'll be gone for a week, away from the city, away from my love problems and all that. I think it'll be good for me." Then, a smile started to form on his lips. "There, I'll leave all my worries behind."

"Parker, it's just a one-week corporate retreat, not a sabbatical." You grimaced, unimpressed with the whole thing. "You're not gonna get over this thing in just seven days."

"You don't know that." He scoffed. "I'll be a new man once I get back. You'll see."

"Sure." You replied, a hint of sarcasm laced in your tone.

"Oh, one more thing!"

"What, another corporate retreat?" You snickered, amused with all the clever remarks you were throwing at him. Peter, on the other hand, wasn't.

"No!" He gave you a look. "Bucky will look after you while I'm gone!"

Shock crossed your face. "Bucky?"

"Yes, me."

And on cue, a figure emerged behind Peter.

You were so bewildered with Peter's troubles that you hadn't noticed Bucky creeping up towards the counter. He was wearing what seemed like a navy blue tailored Hugo Boss suit, paired with a nice, sleek tie. His whole fit, illuminated by the iridescent lights made his blue eyes pop even more. Like last time, he opened up a button on his waist, tossed the end flaps in the air and sat down beside Peter on a high stool.

Watching him, you could feel the air around you tighten, paired with a clump of saliva caught in your throat. He placed his elbow on top of the counter and tucked his chin on his palm.

"B-bucky," you finally breathed, silently choking up on your own saliva, "hey, it's been quite some time."

"Hello, doll." The vowels on his words seemed to drop, accompanied by that rhythmic sound he usually does when he speaks. Oh god, one day with Bucky and I've already picked up on that, you thought. "Missed me?"

You felt some blood quickly rushing to your cheeks but you played it cool. "Don't flatter yourself, James." You pretended to get quite busy, wiping some clean glass off the counter then faced Peter. "So, what's this thing about Bucky looking after me?"

"Well, I'll be gone. You'll be alone. Bucky will look after you." Peter tried to "expound." "What's not adding up, y/n?"

You rolled your eyes at the two and scoffed, placing the glass on the counter. "No, thanks. It's just one week. I can take care of myself."

It was true. You once spent a two-week vacation all by yourself to California after high school and you came home in New Jersey without a scratch -- like a brand-new car. You walked around the place as if it was your turf, and blended in with the locals while basked in the glorious heat of the California sun.

"Bucky insisted." Peter chimed in defensively.

"Oh. Bucky insisted." You said, your gaze averting to Bucky's eyes. "Again, I appreciate the offer but I can handle myself. I'm not a baby."

Bucky, clearly amused with the whole situation, leaned back with careful eyes fixed on yours. "Come on, y/n, don't you want some company?"

"Aren't you busy with your company?" You retorted.

"Yes, I have been but not anymore." He replied. "Unless something comes up. A week without Peter must be somewhat lonely. Come on," he insisted once again, "it's also for me. It'll give me something to do for a week."

"Wait, what?"

"You guys could get to know each other better and get along!" Peter blurted. "And without me around, Bucky won't have someone to hangout with. Please, y/n? I'd feel so much better."

"Hang out? What are you guys, like sixteen?"

Your mind was still set on Bucky's last choice of words but you saved it for later.

"Pleaaaaseee?"

You sighed, knowing you could never refuse your best friend's pleas. "Fine."

"Great!"

"Just for the record," you said, holding up a finger, "I'm just agreeing because of Peter, not because I can't take care of myself."

Peter rolled his eyes while pulling out his phone from his pocket. "Yeah, yeah, you're an independent woman. Okay, I gotta take this call. I'll be right back."

And all then there were two: you and Bucky. While making two grasshoppers for a couple of girls who just entered, you could feel Bucky's intense stare towards you. Your mind, clouded with thoughts, wished it could tap into his and take a sly look at what was going on inside.

You locked eyes as soon as you handed the girls their drinks. Bucky wearing such a neat, tailored suit made you forget about all his child-like ways in Peter's countless stories. All you saw was a man favored by all the gods and at the same time sent by the devil to test you in so many ways imaginable. You wondered if he felt the same. Of course, you weren't like him or any other people carved perfectly by the gods, but his vehement stare said otherwise.

"Are you gonna order a drink?" You asked, breaking the silence, and also your train of thoughts.

"No." He replied. "I'm good."

"Okay."

Peter, where the hell are you?

"Hey, y/n?"

"Yes?"

"You look beautiful tonight."

A plain black tank top, paired with some old jeans, minimal makeup and this man just told you that you looked beautiful. "Well not just tonight. You've always been beautiful. I just hope you know that."

"Okay what has gotten into you? You're being... weird."

He shrugged. "I'm just stating facts."

You hummed, a look of confusion spread across your face. "Thank you, I guess. Y-you look good yourself. Very different from when I first met you." You chuckled.

"Well, I was naked the first time we met so yeah."

Peter got back from his phone call and for the whole night, you spent your time working your shift while Bucky and Peter moved on to play some billiards and darts as well. Nat kept shifting her eyes between you and Bucky and you just shrugged her off, flipping your middle finger on her in which she reciprocated.

The next day, Peter was all set for his corporate retreat, surprised he didn't need any help from me at all. You helped him with some of his bags towards the sidewalk ("Jesus, Parker, are you going out of the country?"). While you waited for his Uber to arrive.

"You better take care of yourself, Parker." You said, standing beside him on the side of the street. "I'm gonna miss you."

"Really? I'm gonna miss you too."

"Well, yeah, of course. You're like a little brother to me." You smiled, ruffling his brown locks even though he was taller than you.

He looked down on the pavement with a tight-lipped smile. "Right, right."

Smiling, you grabbed his hand and leaned your head on his surprisingly broad shoulders. "Come on, cheer up. You needed this, right?"

"Yes, I definitely do." He whispered. "More than you know."

A few seconds later, the Uber arrived. Before climbing in the black vehicle, you were pulled into Peter's embrace with a soft, fluttery kiss landing on your forehead. Taken aback, you just smiled at him and watched the car get tinier and tinier as it drove further.

You got back in the apartment and five minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Behind it was a smiling Bucky wearing some casual clothes. "Good morning, doll. Missed me?"

You rolled your eyes letting him inside the apartment. Closing the door behind me, you replied: "You've already used that line last night. Pick another one."

"Aw, you haven't heard the rest of it."

You went to the kitchen, grabbed some water from the fridge, and took a drink. "Which is?"

"Miss me, miss me, now you gotta kiss me."

With unsteady hands, you choked on your water and felt the liquid on your skin as soon as those words left Bucky's mouth. Great now I spilled the drink on my chest.

You turned around only to be faced by Bucky. "Now I gotta what?"

His laughter echoed in the kitchen as he backed away from you. "I'm just messing with you. So, what's for breakfast?"

He left you there standing flabbergasted, with some water dripping down your top and shorts, down to the floor. You bore your eyes into the back of his head as he turned on the television.

Bucky tilted his head towards you, eyed you up and down and finished it with a swipe of his tongue on his lower lip.

Oh, this was going to be a long week.

A long, agonizing week.

[faintingheroine]

Wuthering Heights Reread - Chapter 2

And here is Chapter 2, the funniest chapter of Wuthering Heights. I really chuckled a couple of times in this reread.

“Yesterday afternoon set in misty and cold. I had half a mind to spend it by my study fire, instead of wading through heath and mud to Wuthering Heights.”

Good idea Lockwood. I wish that you had stuck with this decision.

In these first lines of the chapter the conflict of the chapter is pretty much laid out, Lockwood unwisely going to Wuthering Heights and being trapped there because of the snowstorm.

“On coming up from dinner, however, (N.B.—I dine between twelve and one o’clock; the housekeeper, a matronly lady, taken as a fixture along with the house, could not, or would not, comprehend my request that I might be served at five)—“

Here is our first introduction to Nelly’s character. The critic James Hafley who came up with the villainous Nelly theory pointed to this first introduction as an evidence that Nelly is supposed to be a negatively portrayed character. Personally I think that it is instead revealing of how Lockwood views Nelly and the culture clash between them. Lockwood views Nelly as “a fixture”, almost as an item in the house. Lockwood’s patronizing and classist perception of Nelly will be present throughout their interactions.

The culture clash is also interesting. Nelly is someone who believes that you must have done half of your day’s work before ten in the morning and therefore she believes that lunch should be eaten in the afternoon, whereas Lockwood is a young urbanite who lives a life of idleness and wakes up late. It is fitting that this is our first introduction to their relationship since this discussion about when to go to bed will be featured later in the novel. This difference between their attitudes is not just about class but also about the general culture of the place. The inhabitants of the Heights go to bed at nine and wake up at four in the morning according to Heathcliff. These are practical, no-nonsense people despite all their other emotional turmoil and they can’t understand Lockwood’s decision to visit the Heights during a snowstorm, this is definitely a factor in the clash between them and Lockwood throughout the chapter.

Nelly is described as a “matronly lady”; Lockwood likes categorizing people, especially women, into different archetypes as will later be shown in the chapter.

“On that bleak hill-top the earth was hard with a black frost, and the air made me shiver through every limb. Being unable to remove the chain, I jumped over, and, running up the flagged causeway bordered with straggling gooseberry-bushes, knocked vainly for admittance, till my knuckles tingled and the dogs howled.”

Joseph’s gooseberry bushes make their first appearance. In Lockwood’s second coming to the region in late 1802 the door of Wuthering Heights will be unbarred and Cathy and Hareton will have cleared the ground from some of the gooseberry bushes intending to replace them with plants from the Grange, indicating the difference that took place between Lockwood’s visits to the region.

“The snow began to drive thickly. I seized the handle to essay another trial; when a young man without coat, and shouldering a pitchfork, appeared in the yard behind. He hailed me to follow him, and, after marching through a wash-house, and a paved area containing a coal-shed, pump, and pigeon-cot, we at length arrived in the huge, warm, cheerful apartment where I was formerly received. It glowed delightfully in the radiance of an immense fire, compounded of coal, peat, and wood; and near the table, laid for a plentiful evening meal, I was pleased to observe the ‘missis’, an individual whose existence I had never previously suspected.”

Our first introduction to Hareton immediately highlights his status as a worker in the farm and his seemingly lower status. He brings Lockwood to the house through another gate that presumably farm workers were supposed to use rather than a genteel visitor like Lockwood. We also get our first introduction to Cathy in this same paragraph which is fitting.

The description of the Heights is rather cozy, this isn’t a Gothic castle but rather a comfortable domestic setting. What makes it Gothic is the people and the happenings, not so much the actual place.

“She never opened her mouth. I stared—she stared also: at any rate, she kept her eyes on me in a cool, regardless manner, exceedingly embarrassing and disagreeable.

‘Sit down,’ said the young man, gruffly. ‘He’ll be in soon.’

I obeyed; and hemmed, and called the villain Juno, who deigned, at this second interview, to move the extreme tip of her tail, in token of owning my acquaintance.”

Cathy defiantly gazes back at Lockwood without a hint of feminine shyness or even any sort of friendliness. This is indicative of her defiant personality. No matter how dire her circumstances are her will to stand her ground and not obey others is strong, which, despite her rudeness and depressive spirit, is admirable.

The “ruffianly bitch” is revealed to be named Juno, which is fitting considering her swarm of squealing puppies.

“‘A beautiful animal!’ I commenced again. ‘Do you intend parting with the little ones, madam?’

‘They are not mine,’ said the amiable hostess, more repellingly than Heathcliff himself could have replied.”

Here we have yet another indication of Cathy’s unhappy state and an indication that she does not exactly function as the mistress of the house, the dogs are not hers.

“‘Ah, your favourites are among these?’ I continued, turning to an obscure cushion full of something like cats.

‘A strange choice of favourites!’ she observed scornfully.

Unluckily, it was a heap of dead rabbits.”

Needless to say, I really like this passage. It is the perfect example of the dark humor of Wuthering Heights. It is also the most concise illustration of the failure of Lockwood and by extension the reader trying to impose their preconceived notions of the world and fiction on Wuthering Heights. (People who were disappointed by the book not being a romance were probably expecting something like cats). It is also a good example of the aforementioned culture clash between Lockwood and the inhabitants of these houses, these dead rabbits are probably for farm work whereas Lockwood comes from the urban world where animals only exist to be pets or as a means of transportation. (Though admittedly Lockwood will later come to Yorkshire to “devastate the moors”, but knowing Lockwood this is also probably a passing interest and he does not know that much about hunting).

“Her position before was sheltered from the light; now, I had a distinct view of her whole figure and countenance. She was slender, and apparently scarcely past girlhood: an admirable form, and the most exquisite little face that I have ever had the pleasure of beholding; small features, very fair; flaxen ringlets, or rather golden, hanging loose on her delicate neck; and eyes, had they been agreeable in expression, that would have been irresistible: fortunately for my susceptible heart, the only sentiment they evinced hovered between scorn and a kind of desperation, singularly unnatural to be detected there. The canisters were almost out of her reach; I made a motion to aid her; she turned upon me as a miser might turn if any one attempted to assist him in counting his gold.”

Unlike her mother who is scarcely described in the text, Cathy is described in admiring detail by Lockwood. It is quite male gazey.

Cathy Linton is the character who is most frequently described as beautiful and this might be a factor in how healthy she comes off, both mentally and physically, and how positive a character she is. These things are explained in more detail here and here.

Lockwood’s description of her eyes foreshadows how important a role those eyes will play in the narrative later and brings to my mind Isabella’s comment to Heathcliff about how Hindley and Catherine have the same eyes: “Hindley has exactly her eyes, if you had not tried to gouge them out, and made them black and red; and her—”

Cathy not wanting Lockwood’s help shows how distrusting she is of everyone in this period of her life (and can we really blame her?) and how she tries to be strong on her own. This makes how she later retains her strength via her comradery with Hareton all the more moving.

“‘Were you asked to tea?’ she demanded, tying an apron over her neat black frock, and standing with a spoonful of the leaf poised over the pot.

‘I shall be glad to have a cup,’ I answered.

‘Were you asked?’ she repeated.

‘No,’ I said, half smiling. ‘You are the proper person to ask me.’

She flung the tea back, spoon and all, and resumed her chair in a pet; her forehead corrugated, and her red under-lip pushed out, like a child’s ready to cry.”

This shows how little authority Cathy has in the Heights. It also shows how unwilling she is to do anything that she doesn’t absolutely have to. “Her neat black frock” is a clue to her being recently widowed, of course Lockwood doesn’t put two and two together.

The description of her childish expression brings to mind how she is still a teenager and quite young, of course she is moody and rude after such an awful experience and under such dire circumstances.

“Meanwhile, the young man had slung on to his person a decidedly shabby upper garment, and, erecting himself before the blaze, looked down on me from the corner of his eyes, for all the world as if there were some mortal feud unavenged between us.”

I think this is Hareton being jealous of another man having the attention of Cathy.

“I began to doubt whether he were a servant or not: his dress and speech were both rude, entirely devoid of the superiority observable in Mr. and Mrs. Heathcliff; his thick brown curls were rough and uncultivated, his whiskers encroached bearishly over his cheeks, and his hands were embrowned like those of a common labourer: still his bearing was free, almost haughty, and he showed none of a domestic’s assiduity in attending on the lady of the house.”

Hareton’s ambiguous class position is another classic foreshadowing of the revenge plot to come and was probably a sign of how something went really wrong here to the book’s original Victorian readers who believed in clear-cut class binaries.

“Are you going to mak’ the tea?’ demanded he of the shabby coat, shifting his ferocious gaze from me to the young lady.

‘Is he to have any?’ she asked, appealing to Heathcliff.

‘Get it ready, will you?’ was the answer, uttered so savagely that I started. The tone in which the words were said revealed a genuine bad nature. I no longer felt inclined to call Heathcliff a capital fellow.”

Hareton seems to be angry at Cathy as well. This is the first important sign that Heathcliff might be a generally “bad” person, not just a bit misanthropic and sarcastic.

“When the preparations were finished, he invited me with ‘Now, sir, bring forward your chair.’ And we all, including the rustic youth, drew round the table: an austere silence prevailing while we discussed our meal.

I have always found it interesting how Heathcliff sat at the same table with Cathy and Hareton, as @dahlia-coccinea also pointed out in their post on Chapter 2. Cathy and Hareton are not complete Cinderellas. In some twisted way Heathcliff does see them as family. In a way his revenge is making them his family, more than making them into servants.

“‘It is strange,’ I began, in the interval of swallowing one cup of tea and receiving another ‘it is strange how custom can mould our tastes and ideas: many could not imagine the existence of happiness in a life of such complete exile from the world as you spend, Mr. Heathcliff; yet, I’ll venture to say, that, surrounded by your family, and with your amiable lady as the presiding genius over your home and heart—’”

As several critics pointed out over the years, in this passage Lockwood is trying to fit Cathy into the archetype of the “angel in the house” (which is especially ironic after Cathy offended him with her rudeness) and is trying to make sense of this strange family circle through his own cliched ideas about domestic bliss. This rather admiring description of marriage and family also belies Lockwood’s assertion in Chapter 1 about how misanthropic he is.

‘“My amiable lady!’ he interrupted, with an almost diabolical sneer on his face. ‘Where is she—my amiable lady?’”

I love Heathcliff. This exchange is one of my favorite parts of the book.

“‘Mrs. Heathcliff, your wife, I mean.’

‘Well, yes—oh, you would intimate that her spirit has taken the post of ministering angel, and guards the fortunes of Wuthering Heights, even when her body is gone. Is that it?’

This is ironic since Mrs. Heathcliff that is referred to here was Isabella but Heathcliff does indeed desire to be haunted by the spirit of another woman.

Notice how Heathcliff parodies Lockwood’s sentimental language. His entire revenge is partially parodying the actions of the people who hurt him.

“Then it flashed on me— ‘The clown at my elbow, who is drinking his tea out of a basin and eating his broad with unwashed hands, may be her husband: Heathcliff junior, of course. Here is the consequence of being buried alive: she has thrown herself away upon that boor from sheer ignorance that better individuals existed! A sad pity—I must beware how I cause her to regret her choice.’ The last reflection may seem conceited; it was not. My neighbour struck me as bordering on repulsive; I knew, through experience, that I was tolerably attractive.”

So, living here is being buried alive according to Lockwood. Much misanthropy.

The last sentence is just hilarious. He would sound much less conceited if he didn’t need to clarify himself. People who think that Wuthering Heights is devoid of humor or that Emily Bronte was incapable of getting the subtleties of human interactions clearly forgot about this chapter.

“‘Ah, certainly—I see now: you are the favoured possessor of the beneficent fairy,’ I remarked, turning to my neighbour.

This was worse than before: the youth grew crimson, and clenched his fist, with every appearance of a meditated assault. But he seemed to recollect himself presently, and smothered the storm in a brutal curse, muttered on my behalf: which, however, I took care not to notice.”

“Beneficent fairy” lol.

Hareton being so offended at the thought of being married to Cathy is clearly an early sign that they will end up together. He would care less if he were indifferent.

“‘Unhappy in your conjectures, sir,’ observed my host; ‘we neither of us have the privilege of owning your good fairy; her mate is dead. I said she was my daughter-in-law: therefore, she must have married my son.’

‘And this young man is—’

‘Not my son, assuredly.’

Heathcliff smiled again, as if it were rather too bold a jest to attribute the paternity of that bear to him.”

“We neither of us have the privilege of owning your good fairy” I love Heathcliff.

Heathcliff doesn’t take pride in ignorance or brutishness, he sees Hareton’s ignorance and brutishness as things to be ashamed of and is proud of himself for bringing his enemy’s son so low. He does love Hareton on some level, but he wouldn’t want to be mistaken for his father. He doesn’t think that ignorance and brutishness are good traits and he doesn’t want to to be associated with these traits, contrary to popular belief.

“‘My name is Hareton Earnshaw,’ growled the other; ‘and I’d counsel you to respect it!’

‘I’ve shown no disrespect,’ was my reply, laughing internally at the dignity with which he announced himself.”

Lockwood doesn’t seem to remember having read Hareton’s name on the door, perhaps because he didn’t enter through that door this time.

“ The dismal spiritual atmosphere overcame, and more than neutralised, the glowing physical comforts round me; and I resolved to be cautious how I ventured under those rafters a third time.”

Wuthering Heights has “glowing physical comforts”, it is the spiritual atmosphere that makes it a bleak place, not necessarily its physical presence.

“A sorrowful sight I saw: dark night coming down prematurely, and sky and hills mingled in one bitter whirl of wind and suffocating snow.”

A very good and concise description of the situation. Wuthering Heights is really good at setting the atmosphere through brief natural descriptions.

“There was no reply to my question; and on looking round I saw only Joseph bringing in a pail of porridge for the dogs, and Mrs. Heathcliff leaning over the fire, diverting herself with burning a bundle of matches which had fallen from the chimney-piece as she restored the tea-canister to its place.”

Our first porridge!

I like the little details of daily life here. Wuthering Heights is remembered for its dramatic and explosive scenes, but it is also good at conveying character through little details like these.

To my surprise I have found that I could get into these characters in this reread independently of my knowledge of the later happenings in the novel, despite me knowing the novel so well. The misanthropic grumpy landlord, moody teenage girl, the ridiculously delusional tenant, rude young man of uncertain class status, religious old servant... These characters are well-drawn and interesting independently of their backstory that we will later learn about, a novel that is more of this chapter could also be fun and interesting.

“The former, when he had deposited his burden, took a critical survey of the room, and in cracked tones grated out ‘Aw wonder how yah can faishion to stand thear i’ idleness un war, when all on ’ems goan out! Bud yah’re a nowt, and it’s no use talking—yah’ll niver mend o’yer ill ways, but goa raight to t’ divil, like yer mother afore ye!’”

The first mention of Cathy’s mother.

“‘You scandalous old hypocrite!’ she replied. ‘Are you not afraid of being carried away bodily, whenever you mention the devil’s name? I warn you to refrain from provoking me, or I’ll ask your abduction as a special favour! Stop! look here, Joseph,’ she continued, taking a long, dark book from a shelf; ‘I’ll show you how far I’ve progressed in the Black Art: I shall soon be competent to make a clear house of it. The red cow didn’t die by chance; and your rheumatism can hardly be reckoned among providential visitations!’”

Cathy derives her power from her clever words and her love of books.

“Mrs. Heathcliff,’ I said earnestly, ‘you must excuse me for troubling you. I presume, because, with that face, I’m sure you cannot help being good-hearted.”

The belief that Cathy must be good because she is beautiful is related to physiognomy. It is interesting that Emily Bronte has Lockwood say this since Lockwood’s assertions about women tend to be obviously ridiculous, yet she seems to make use of physiognomy in her characterizations. She is probably making fun of physiognomy as something to believe in real life but makes use of it to characterize her characters.

“‘How so? I cannot escort you. They wouldn’t let me go to the end of the garden wall.’”

Cathy is literally trapped at the Heights.

“‘As to staying here, I don’t keep accommodations for visitors: you must share a bed with Hareton or Joseph, if you do.’

‘I can sleep on a chair in this room,’ I replied.

‘No, no! A stranger is a stranger, be he rich or poor: it will not suit me to permit any one the range of the place while I am off guard!’ said the unmannerly wretch.”

Heathcliff has really become a miserly and grumpy man which again runs completely counter to the popular perception of him.

His completely reasonable assertion that Lockwood can spend a night sharing a room with Joseph or Hareton is forgotten by Lockwood because of his rudeness.

“At first the young man appeared about to befriend me.

‘I’ll go with him as far as the park,’ he said.”

‘You’ll go with him to hell!’ exclaimed his master, or whatever relation he bore. ‘And who is to look after the horses, eh?’

‘A man’s life is of more consequence than one evening’s neglect of the horses: somebody must go,’ murmured Mrs. Heathcliff, more kindly than I expected.

‘Not at your command!’ retorted Hareton. ‘If you set store on him, you’d better be quiet.’

‘Then I hope his ghost will haunt you; and I hope Mr. Heathcliff will never get another tenant till the Grange is a ruin,’ she answered, sharply.”

A sign of Hareton’s goodness and conscience and a sign of Cathy’s goodness as well.

Hareton is jealous of Cathy’s concern for another man. (@dahlia-coccinea also pointed this out in their post.)

Cathy and Hareton’s bickering is an early clue to them ending up together, which is why I am always surprised when people say that their relationship came out of nowhere. Like it or not, in fiction when a young man and a young woman share a quotidian and irrelevant enmity or a spar of words this is usually a sign that they will end up together. Yes it is not the least toxic of tropes and went out of fashion in the last few years, but this is the way it usually goes in fiction.

“He sat within earshot, milking the cows by the light of a lantern, which I seized unceremoniously, and, calling out that I would send it back on the morrow, rushed to the nearest postern.”

I like the little details of the farm life that are going on in the background like Joseph milking the cows. Bronte never lets us forget that this is a working farm where things are getting done and she always retains the vraisemblance of her setting.

“I ordered the miscreants to let me out—on their peril to keep me one minute longer—with several incoherent threats of retaliation that, in their indefinite depth of virulency, smacked of King Lear.”

The famous reference to King Lear. It is a rather humorous reference, referring to Lockwood’s threats being moot, which is what I have been feeling throughout the chapter whenever Lockwood mentions that he is on the verge of beating up someone.

“I don’t know what would have concluded the scene, had there not been one person at hand rather more rational than myself, and more benevolent than my entertainer. This was Zillah, the stout housewife; who at length issued forth to inquire into the nature of the uproar. She thought that some of them had been laying violent hands on me; and, not daring to attack her master, she turned her vocal artillery against the younger scoundrel.”

Zillah is positioned as Lockwood’s benevolent savior so far in the narrative, but her hesitation in going against her master is a clue to her pragmatic nature.

“‘Well, Mr. Earnshaw,’ she cried, ‘I wonder what you’ll have agait next? Are we going to murder folk on our very door-stones? I see this house will never do for me—look at t’ poor lad, he’s fair choking! Wisht, wisht; you mun’n’t go on so. Come in, and I’ll cure that: there now, hold ye still.’”

Zillah calls Lockwood “poor lad”, I think Lockwood is supposed to be young and certainly younger than Zillah. I imagine him as someone in his mid to late twenties.

“He told Zillah to give me a glass of brandy, and then passed on to the inner room; while she condoled with me on my sorry predicament, and having obeyed his orders, whereby I was somewhat revived, ushered me to bed.”

Dun dun dunn...

@dahlia-coccinea

[writesowhatnext]

talk trash, get brass // george weasley

Summary: someone bad-mouthing George has make him a little insecure – it’s definitely time for the reader to step in

Request: can i request fred or george dating the reader and she's with her friends and he overhears one of them talking shit about him [he's worried y/n will agree and gets sad :(] but she defends him and says she genuinely loves him 😘 thanks xx

A/N: this took me forever because I can’t choose between the twins but also I was fighting making it a slytherin!reader bc the slytherin girls are written as catty bitches which would make this easier but we move also I wrote planked by his ravenclaw buddies and nearly had a stroke also I dragged Michael Corner’s character through the mud #sorrynotsorry also have I miraculously forgotten how to write in character????

Reader: unspecified

Warnings: swearing, bad friends, argument

“Fred,” you said, finding him in the Great Hall with half of a ham sandwich stuffed into his mouth. “Why is George ignoring me?”

He rolled his eyes when you sat down, watching him with an expectant look as you drummed your fingers impatiently on the table.

“Lovely to see you too, Y/N,” he said, wetting his lips and waving the other half of his sandwich around in his hand as he spoke. “Me? Yeah, I’m doing just swell actually, cheers for asking. No, I wanted the beef really but McLaggen took the last one, the thieving bastard.”

You shot him a dry look, grinding your teeth together. He rolled his eyes again at your raised eyebrows.

“Not in the mood for jokes then, are we?”

“How would you know?” you asked, huffing. “You haven’t told me any.”

“Ouch,” he whined, placing his hand over his heart in mock hurt. “You wound me.”

You sighed, brushing your hair back from your face as your shoulders slumped.

“Come on, Fred. I know you know why he’s been avoiding me.”

For a moment, Fred didn’t reply. He just stared at you, gauging your expression with his level gaze. To say you were surprised would’ve been an understatement; serious Fred was not something you were well accustomed to.

“I don’t have a clue,” he said, leaning back and throwing the rest of his sandwich lazily on his plate. You scoffed.

“Bullshit, tell me.”

“Go ask George,” he replied quickly, gripping the edge of the table with his hands as your voices got louder.

“I can’t ask George, can I, Fred? He’s the one bloody ignoring me!”

You swore sometimes that Fred and George had one brain cell between them and even that could be a bit of a stretch.

“Fine then,” Fred threw his hands up indignantly. “Ask your friend Michael! I’m sure he knows all about it!”

“What?” you said quietly, visibly taken aback, your shoulders slumping. Fred groaned, his hands coming up to hide his face.

“I definitely wasn’t supposed to say that.”

“What did Michael do?”

Fred looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there, wilting under your determined stare.

“Fred…” you said, your tone decidedly warning.

“Your mate Michael was talking bollocks about George to all his Ravenclaw buddies – which is quite rich isn’t it, really? Coming from him, the little toad. Can’t believe he dated Cho Chang; I heard Ginny might be going for him as well… pfft, there’s no accounting for- oi, where are you going?”

You barely caught the end of Fred’s rant, already racing out of the Great Hall, undecided as to whether you were in search of Michael or George first. The universe chose for you, though, when you spotted Michael circling around a corridor, flanked by some of his Ravenclaw friends.

You and Michael were more acquaintances than friends. Truth be told, you only talked to him to start with to help Ginny out; she’d been looking for someone to help her get over her crush on Harry. You thought it was futile given how much she liked him, but you were always happy to help out a friend. It appeared though, that not everybody you called your friend was as friendly. Michael had been fine for a while and you found that sometimes you did actually get on with him, especially when there was nobody else around to talk to. Now, though, now you were questioning your standards.

“Hey!” you yelled, immediately drawing the attention of Michael, his friends, and the rest of the corridor. “Michael!”

“You okay, Y/N?” he asked and as you looked at him, genuine concern written all over his features, all you wanted to do was punch him.

“What have you been saying about George?”

He looked confused for a second and then guilty, and then a haughty look lifted his nose up and you were really, at that second, re-evaluating your decision not to hit him.

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” he said, smiling. “You can’t be serious.”

You stepped closer to him; your hand lowered just in case you needed easy access to your wand.

“Tell me what you said about my boyfriend. I know you said something, so tell me, now.”

He looked to his friends as if considering whether you were actually serious before he scoffed.

“All I said was that you were way too smart to be with a bloke as dumb as him,” you huffed, fists clenching at his words. “I’m not wrong, Y/N, those twins are bad news and they’re hardly boyfriend-“

“Hey, Michael,” you said, trying desperately to control yourself as you frowned, head ticking to the side. “Do you remember two years ago when the Slytherin common room was pink for two weeks?”

He frowned, nervously glancing at his friends. “Sure,” he said, though he seemed anything but.

“Do you remember how they had to get Dumbledore himself to fix it because none of the other teachers could figure out how to make it green again. Do you remember that?”

“Yeah, why? What’s that got-“

“George did that. He used about eight different cloaking spells and spent weeks convincing Nearly Headless Nick to help him and Fred. Could you do that?”

He opened his mouth, but you weren’t finished. Ever since you started dating George, everyone seemed to have an opinion and you were tired of it.

“No, Michael, you couldn’t.”

With your voice raised and your determined gaze directed solely at Michael and his Ravenclaw buddies, all looking very uncomfortable, you didn’t even notice George lurking behind you.

“And you know that time that nobody could figure out how the Gryffindor Quidditch Team knew everything about the Ravenclaw strategies? That was George too. Between him and Fred, they made these things,” you found yourself getting distracted as you remembered how impressed you’d been. “These ears that you can use over massive, unprecedented distances to eavesdrop on people. That technology is legendary, regardless of what it’s used for.”

“And so,” you huffed, adjusting your robes as you leant back, aware that maybe you were being too hard on him. “You can shove your opinion, because George Weasley, my George, he’s a bloody genius. And he’s not bad news. He’s the kindest, sweetest guy and you’d be lucky to be half as patient or funny or amazing as him, alright, Michael?”

Michael looked taken aback by your outburst and even you were slightly surprised at your rant. His friends were equally caught off guard. Well, most of them. The boy on the right of him frowned, rolling his eyes. You wouldn’t have caught it had he not muttered under his breath.

“Weasley can’t fight his own battles, then?”

“What the fuck did you just say?” you reached for your wand and the boys in front of you stumbling backwards to avoid you. Before you could make them eat slugs like you so desperately wanted to, a hand caught your wrist. You spun around, brows furrowed at whoever was stopping you until you saw George’s face, all freckles and gentleness. All the anger that you’d had flooded away as he looked over your shoulder at the three Ravenclaw boys.

“I reckon you should piss off, now, don’t you?”

He didn’t have to tell them twice; within seconds they had disappeared down the corridor before you could hex them properly.

You turned to George as he slid his hand down your wrist to interlock your fingers together.

“Telling everyone my top-secret pranks, are we?” he asked, a crooked smile on his lips.

“Finally, not ignoring me anymore, are we?” you mimicked in the same tone, regretting it slightly as he sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“I’m sorry.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, your noses touching.

“I thought you’d agree with him, didn’t I?” he said quietly, pulling his top lip between his teeth. “I knew he was your friend-“

“He’s bloody not anymore, that’s for certain. He’s lucky I didn’t send him to Madam Pomfrey.”

Your anger sparked again thinking about it, but as always, George’s warm hand rubbing up and down your arm washed it away and you looked at him to see him already smiling at you.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Because you think I’m kind and sweet and funny and drop-dead gorgeous.”

You smiled, shoving at him with your intertwined hands.

“I don’t remember saying you were funny. Or gorgeous.”

“I do. It was right before you called me amazing. And besides, gorgeous is bit of a given, isn’t it?”

You made a face at the way he flicked his hair and rolled your eyes but you couldn’t keep the fond smile off your face no matter how hard you tried.

“You really thought I’d agree with him?” you asked quietly, picking at your bottom lip with your teeth. He avoided your eyes. “Georgie.”

He sighed, facing you properly, his eyes trailing down your face.

“Everyone knows how out of my league you are, love,” he said, stroking your cheek with the back of his finger. “Just felt like I was punching above my weight, didn’t I?”

“Well,” you whispered, letting go of his hand to cup his cheeks. “Whilst I am objectively much better looking-“

He pinched your side, earning a grunt in response before his palms settled on your waist.

“I love you,” You pressed a kiss to his left cheek and then right. “And that,” another kiss to his nose then forehead. “Is all that matters.”

You finally pecked him on the lips, happy to see him smiling again, happy to hear his voice.

“So,” you grinned. “If anyone says anything else, just send them to me.”

“Oh, I will,” he said, wrapping his arms around you. “I like it when you get all feisty. Especially over me.”

harry potter tag list: <3<3

@creator-appreciator​

@decadentwastelandtrash

@loveisblindness​

@xinyourdreamsx​

@brainlesspasta​

@hariosborn​

@staringmoony​

@rexorangecouny​

@ickle-ronniekins​ 

@harrysweasleys​ 

@alittletoomanyobsessions​

@peachesandpinks​

[kaznejis]

Letters- Marco Peña x reader, best friend!Noah Flynn x reader

@nick-1432​ asked: Hey Can I get a Marco ×Y/n imagine where the reader is Noah's best friend but a year younger than him . So is in the same year as Lee and Elle . You decide the rest .

A/N: Thankyou for this prompt! This is an AU so before we begin I’d like to note that Marco and Elle didn’t kiss in this universe- her and Noah had their issues but she never cheated. I decided to make this into a secret admirer fic- enjoy! :)

Feel free to send in any prompts!

“So, how is it going with Elle nowadays?” 

Noah grinned; the facetime screen glitching as it rushed to keep up with his widened features, “Yeah, it’s going better. I’ve decided that communication definitely is key and we were lacking it before.”

“So you did take my advice!” You giggled and fist-pumped the air, “So everything I say isn’t complete rubbish.”

“You didn’t know that already?” Noah raised his eyebrows and moved closer to the camera from where he had been showing off the apartment’s new microwave, “You’ll be here at Harvard with me in no time.”

“Yeah well,” You shrugged bashfully, leaning back in your desk chair, “I’ve got to actually hear back from them before that can happen.”

“It will.” Noah insisted before smirking slightly, “I may have even put in word with the dean for you.”

“Noah!” Your eyes widened as you slammed a hand down onto your desk, “You didn’t?!”

“I did.”

“Jesus,” You huffed, shaking your head at the camera, “You’re a sneaky bastard.”

“Takes one to know one, bitch.”

You both laughed at that, the both of you letting out snorts and silly giggles as you clutched at your sides and leaned back dangerously in your chair. Though before you could reply back with a cutting retort your dad came into the room. 

“Hey sweetheart, there’s a letter for you.”

You held up your finger in a ‘one moment’ gesture to Noah and put yourself on mute, “Who is it from?”

“No clue,” He shrugged and handed you a white envelope with your name on, “It just came through the mail box and by the time I got there whoever delivered it was gone.”

“Oh,” You turned the letter over once, twice before giving your dad a polite smile, “Thanks.”

He nodded in reply and left your room, shutting the door behind him, “What is it?” Noah’s voice sounded from your laptop, you quickly took yourself off mute and held the letter up to the camera. 

“A letter, no idea who it’s from though.”

“Well open it.” That earned him a glare, but he did have a point- you wouldn’t know who it was from if you never opened it. 

It was a standard white envelope, though it only had your name written on it meaning it had been posted straight into your mailbox by the sender themselves. Not creepy at all, you snorted to yourself. After pondering for a few moments, you hastily flipped the letter over and ripped it open, Noah winced at your ferocity in doing so. Inside the envelope was a slip of paper folded in half; it was white and there were pen marks that sunk through it. 

“Well?”

“Calm your farm,” You muttered, glaring at Noah again, “I’m getting to it.”

Unfolding the paper, you began to read the note. The handwriting was elegant and familiar- though you couldn’t place where you recognised it. 

Dear Y/N, 

I’m just going to cut straight to the chase here, I like you. A lot. I have for a long time now and I just can’t keep it to myself anymore. So there you go.

Yours sincerely, 

Your secret admirer. 

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Oh my god.”

“Y/N?” Noah stared at you through the screen, looking increasingly concerned, “Who is it from?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

You breathed, scratching your eyebrow before saying, “I mean, it’s from my secret admirer.”

“Your what now?”

“My secret admirer.”

To your utter shock, Noah barked out a loud laugh and clapped his hands together- extremely amused at the revelation, “A secret admirer? What is this, middle school?”

“I know right?” You huffed, placing the letter down onto your desk, “It is kind of cute though.”

Noah raised an eyebrow and leaned forward on his elbows, “I’ll be the judge of that, let’s hear it.”

You read the contents of the letter out to Noah- who looked like he was holding back a laugh the whole time. You huffed at him, tilting your head to the side and practically pouting once you finished, “Stop.”

“What?” Noah snorted, elongating the word slightly as he attempted to come as innocent. You returned this with a raised eyebrow and crossed arms, “Alright, alright. I have to admit it’s pretty cute...who do you think it could be then?”

You shrugged, there were hundreds of people at your school alone, let alone the whole of LA, “I have no clue.”

“What if it’s Marco?”

You laughed at the sheer stupidity of Noah’s words, almost wiping away tears once you were done, “As if.”

“What?” Noah crowed, frowning, “I’m serious, when I was around he used to stare at you all the time. I doubt he’s changed much, if your wardrobe change over the summer is anything to go by.”

“In my dreams, Flynn.”

-

Despite your original rejection of Noah’s statement, it stuck in your mind for days to come. You weren’t going to lie, you had caught Marco staring at you a number of times; the reason for that being that you had been staring at him too. You had liked Marco for months, the boy’s dark curly hair and gorgeous build had you enamoured from the get-go. But, then you had been paired together for a project and you’d really gotten to know him. Although at times he could be blunt and quite cold; he was hilarious and really intelligent. Seeing the personality behind the pretty face had caused you to fall fast, but eventually the project was over and daily interactions became shy smiles in passing. Sure, your friendship groups crossed paths from time to time but you just didn’t have the confidence to start anything. So, you were stuck with a relentless crush. Gross. 

You were at your locker on Tuesday, rifling through it as you searched for the textbook you had left in there and desperately needed. As your fingers finally swiped across the book, they were also met with a different slip of paper. You paused, heart speeding as you slowly pulled it out. It couldn’t be. 

Nevertheless, in your hand lay a slip of paper identical to the one that you had received a few days prior- you once again unfolded it and got to reading the note within. 

Dear Y/N,

Now that I have expressed the way I feel, I have an urge to tell you more. 

Your smile is so beautiful and your laugh lights up the room. The way you always tuck your hair behind your ears is really cute too. 

Yours sincerely, 

Your secret admirer

A blush highlighted your cheeks as you subconsiously tucked your hair behind your ears, almost slapping yourself for doing so. No, you were not going to let a few little compliments break you down like that- but then your eyes landed upon the small heart illustrated below the sign off. You swallowed heavily and fanned yourself in an excuse to compose yourself before your next class begin. You spotted Lee, Elle and Rachel heading your way and shoved the letter into your bag before skipping over to them with your usual bright smile as if nothing was wrong. 

-

The letters continued like that; they were always in your locker and they always entailed some form of compliment. You found yourself expecting them most mornings, running to your locker to see whether or not a note had been slipped into the grates whilst you weren’t around. 

One particular morning, you were in a frenzied rush- sprinting to your locker in order to grab the essentials so that your day wouldn’t be a complete flop. As you wrenched open your locker you spotted another familiar letter, with a huff you shoved it into your pocket before practically pouring your belongings into your bag. You’d read it later, you had to focus on actually getting to class. 

Thankfully, you did arrive to the class on time. But, you were last and the teacher was moments away from beginning the lesson. 

“Nice of you to join us, Miss L/N” 

“Sorry miss,” You twisted your lips apologetically before making your way to the only seat in the class, which was positioned right in the middle of two ‘popular’ girls, “Shit.” You muttered before ultimately sucking it up. Your friends on the other side of the room each shot you sympathetic looks.

After a quick observation, you noted that Marco was sat one row back and directly diagonal to you. The girls on either side of you were each twirling their hair and blowing their bubble gum obnoxiously, paying no mind to the lesson before them. You decided to just get to work, ignoring the possibility of a pair of eyes watching from behind. 

About half way through the lesson, you were reminded of the unread letter that had been shoved into your pocket in your rush. Checking the room for any intrusive eyes, you took the note from your pocket and began to read.

Dear Y/N,

You look really beautiful when you- 

Before you could continue to read the letter, it was wrenched out of your hands violently by one of the girls beside you. 

“Now what do we have here?” She giggled, moving with unexpected stealth as you tried to take back the letter, “Aw, you look really beautiful when you concentrate, yours sincerely your secret admirer.” A chorus of giggles sounded from the students surrounding you as you sat in shock, mortification evident in your features. 

“Who would want to be their secret admirer?” A voice sounded from behind you, “She’s lucky enough to be friends with Noah Flynn.”

Yet another chorus of laughs sounded from around you, but before you could escape from the personal hell that was this classroom, a voice sounded from diagonal to you, “I want to be.” 

The room froze and time slowed down as you turned to the owner of the voice, your eyes landing on Marco who was staring right back at you; nervousness with a hint of determination was evident in his eyes. You shook your head, feeling way too overwhelmed, “I can’t do this.”

The entire class watched as you gathered up your belongings and hightailed out of the room and as Marco did exactly the same and sprinted after you. 

“Y/N! Y/N!” You wiped the streaming tears from your face as you turned to face Marco who was quickly approaching you, his face was split open in a mix of raw emotions. 

“What Marco? If this is some kind of sick joke I don’t want to hear it.”

“No, no Y/N.” He cooed, taking hold of your wrists in an attempt to calm you down, “I wasn’t joking. I was the one who sent the letters- I really like you Y/N and I couldn’t watch them talking about you like that.”

You hiccuped, feeling a fresh trail of tears falling from your eyes, leaving a glistening trail in their wake, “Oh god.”

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry.” 

“But Marco-” You blew out a breath and almost preened under his gaze, “I haven’t spoken to you in months, how could you like me?”

“Well,” He began, moving a stray hair behind your ear, “Did you not read my letters.”

You laughed lightly, a small burst of breaths coming from your mouth, “Yeah, but-”

“Then what I said there are my reasons for liking you.”

You grinned up at him as your teeth sunk into your lip bashfully, you caught onto his eyes zeroing onto that factor. So, you took a leap and pressed your lips against his and moved to bury your hands into his hair. He responded immediately, cupping your cheeks with his hands as he pressed back with obvious enthusiasm and want. 

-

“So, you were right- it was Marco.”

“I knew it!”

-

If you would like to be added to my taglist for any future posts- please let me know!